Digital Union
by James6
Summary: Chapter 8 Uploaded. When a fourteen year old becomes the unwitting host to his hero, Vritramon's soul, it's like a dream come true. But when the risks involved, and Vritramon's personality, become apparent, can he cope with the struggle? Now continuing
1. Infected

Author's note:

This is sorta an experiment as I haven't really written any stories that include a Digimon from anything after season 3 (Here in Britain, only the first three seasons have been shown so far).

The main characters are Daniel Higgins, a Scottish boy of fourteen, and Vritramon. (Thanks to nightdragon0 for the pictures.) Please read and tell me what you think!

Chapter 1: Nonlinear Genetics

****

**History:**

It is ten years since the D-Reaper incident in season 3. Digimon have become common knowledge, but few Digimon have ever been seen after the D-Reaper incident, save for a few unexpected bio-emergences. The UN has established a separate department to deal with incidents and affairs regarding the Digital World. It has now become a popular topic for research and various expeditions have been made to catalogue the different species and understand their nature. 

Many Digimon have been affected by the human interference, for better or for worse. They are currently trying to rebuild and recover from the havoc caused by D-Reaper. Some try to hide in the real world, some band into gangs for self-protection and often to threaten other Digimon into submitting food and suck like for their own use, and others have built villages with the aid of the UN.

Some, however, have decided to remain alone and independent, relying instead on the old Digimon quest to download as much data from the bodies of their victims as possible.

One such individual was Vritramon.

****

**Somewhere in the Digital world:**

****

In the centre of the Great Dunes, the largest desert on the Digital World, a great oasis stood silent and green on a yellow parched carpet of sand. Every so often, a single green cactus would spring, lonely and isolated. The oasis was surrounded for a few feet around it by lush green grass, from which several palm trees stood their silent vigil. 

Standing at the oasis' edge, a solitary figure stood with his arms folded, gazing hypnotically into his reflection in the still water. Vritramon. He stood totally silent and unmoving, as if asleep on his feet.

Slowly in the distance, a line of dust was being thrown into the air. As the disturbance grew closer, a cacophony of jeers and hoots permeated the air. A low growl turned into a roar as a group of twelve motorbikes of varying sizes. They circled the oasis, jeering and calling out to Vritramon, who stood totally motionless. He didn't twitch, save the gently swaying of his tail. Finally after failing to provoke a response from him, the gang stopped circling. The gang consisted of mainly Goburimon and a few Ogremon. The leader, a tall Beelzemon (not the Beelzemon that joined Takato and co. in season three, by the way) stepped off his bike. He fingered the guns at his waist, anticipating a fight. He swaggered up to Vritramon until he was standing a few feet away.

"Hey! Lizard boy!" This attracted yet more jeers and stupid semi-literate insults to be hurled. He motioned for his gang to be quiet before moving forward a few paces.

"I heard tell that you're the biggest, baddest and meanest mutha' this side of the equator. But you know..." He fingered his guns menacingly, "I reckon you simply haven't met your match. That's what I'm here for, ya know?" This drew a slow growl from Vritramon.

"Do you have any idea what you're getting yourself into... punk?" Beelzemon bristled and drew his weapons.

"Whaddya say!? I'll teach you some respect you damn fire-lizard! How about I push that chunka metal and meat you call a body into the watta, huh!? Bet your wings'd sizzle in there, huh?" He crowed a cruel laugh followed by yet more shouts and calls from his entourage. He had expected a more drastic response, but instead, Vritramon simply unfolded his arms and threw an angry glare over his shoulder.

"Well, your motley crew might make a rookie tremble, but your little boys won't make a scratch on me." he stated. Beelzemon was now physically trembling with rage.

"I'll show you! Arrogant son of a..." he stopped in his tracks as Vritramon suddenly lunged for him with lightning-fast reflexes. Beelzemon looked down and saw Vritramon's hand stuck straight through his stomach.

"Ohhh.... Arrrghh.." he croaked. He burst into a cloud of data bits. Vritramon threw back his head and roared with such ferocity, the palm trees shook and the water surface rippled. The gang all started to flee in different directions, but Vritramon hunted them down, one by one, picking them off their bikes, or throwing them into each other. After only a few minutes, only a heavily wounded Goburimon remained, trying to crawl away. Vritramon walked calmly over to him and placed a foot on his back.

"N-no! Please! I was only following them! I had nothing else! Please!" Vritramon sneered and aimed his arm-mounted blaster at Goburimon's head.

"Say goodnight, punk." He fired with an intense flash. Goburimon disintegrated into a cloud of data bits. He threw back his head, spread his arms and began downloading the data of the obliterated gang. When he had consumed them, he took a deep breath, cracked his neck to the left, then to the right before turning back to the oasis.

"All too easy." He folded his arms once more. "The world is full of losers. Why is everyone else so pathetically weak?" He growled. Then a thought struck him.

"I think I'll go pay the village a visit." he sneered.

****

**Edinburgh, Scotland:**

"Daniel! Time to get up!" Daniel groaned, turned over and pulled the covers further over his head. 

"Whatever." he muttered. His mother opened his door and flicked the light on.

"Hey! Turn it off!"

"Not until you get up. You'll be late for school. Hurry up!" She left the room, leaving him to slowly emerge from his bed. In the early morning sunlight, it was just possible to make out the many dozens of posters of Digimon and dragons. The Digimon posters were all dragon-like Digimon, such as Cyberdramon, Exveemon and Flamedramon. A few of them were dragons in various exotic fantasy settings all of whom looked awe-inspiring and magnificent. The largest and foremost of all, however, was a life-sized poster of Vritramon a friend had bought him from America. It was his favourite poster of his favourite Digimon.

He made his way into the bathroom next door and locked the door. He got undressed and got into the shower, savouring the warmth of the water on his skin. He looked down at his chest at his scar. It was hideous, white train-track like mark that had been the result of an operation.

He had been born with an extremely rare disease called Forstner's disease* that had led to his heart being continuously weakened as he grew. At the age of five, he had his first heart operation. At eleven, he had needed a new operation and a pacemaker. In a few weeks he would need another monthly check-up. He didn't like the visits at all, since his mother would always be close to tears afterwards, and he would be the one comforting her, rather than the other way around.

After his shower he dressed for school and went downstairs for breakfast. While he was eating, he could hear a radio report;

"This just in, a large Digimon has just been reported to have bio-emerged along the M8 dual carriageway. Drivers in the vicinity are warned to avoid or take an alternative route..."

"These Digimon are always causing trouble." Said Daniel's mother, tutting to herself, "Why are they appearing again?"

"Mum, they don't do it deliberately. Sometimes they can't help it." he defended.

"Yes, well, they should learn to control their impulses. Like humans have." He rolled his eyes. Humans, control their impulses? His mood took an upturn as he picked up his bag and jacket, as he had only a week left before the beginning of the summer holidays. He couldn't wait!

**Digital Plains:**

Vritramon stood among the burning ruins of the village he had just razed. The former inhabitants were now either fleeing or being sucked into Vritramon's body as data. He gazed around cruelly satisfied with the havoc he had wreaked.

"So weak..." He noticed out of the corner of his eye an Agumon limping away. He stood stock still for a moment. The Agumon, thinking he was safe, started to run. Vritramon suddenly leapt into the air and with a stroke of his powerful wings, propelled himself at Agumon. He landed with a huge _thump _on the ground in front of him. Agumon fell backwards, his hands raised protectively. 

"No! Stop, wait!" 

"Too bad, little Agumon." Vritramon hissed, raising his blaster. "Your time's up." 

There was a bright flash and the area was engulfed in a bright light. Both Vritramon and Agumon shielded their eyes as the intense light grew brighter.

"What the..?" Vritramon was suddenly aware of a burning pain in his chest. He looked down and saw a stream of binary code running into his chest. As the rogue code continued to dowload into his body, he felt his strength, his power and energy weaken. He staggered back, trying to swat the code away.

"What is this!? Arrrgh.." he screamed in pain as the code finished downloading and he felt every part of his body start to disintegrate. Data bits flew from his body and Digimon began appearing around him. He already recognised them. They were the Digimon whom he had downloaded. They were being re-constructed.

"No... This Can't be" He fell to his knees, one hand covering his chest as his breath grew harsh from the pain. 

After what seemed like an eternity of agony, it abruptly stopped. There was a clamour of noise around him as the resurrected Digimon looked about confusedly, wondering what had happened. He tried to get to his feet, but his legs felt like jelly and he could barely move.

"I Feel So weak... What's happened to me?" 

The clamour of noise was growing as the Digimon around him realised what had happened and they turned their attention to him.

"Not so cocky now, are ya... Punk!" he recognised the voice of the Beelzemon gang leader.

"Let's tear him apart! Let's take HIS data!" another cried. More calls went up as angry and enraged Digimon, once his victims, revelled in his new vulnerability. Vritramon tried to stand, but once again, his knees and legs failed him. He couldn't stand, let alone defend himself. Beelzemon drew his pistols and aimed one at Vritramon's head. 

"This," he declared, "Is for what you did ta us!" He was about to pull the trigger when a new light erupted above Vritramon. He began floating upwards toward the light. He screamed in agony as his body began to break down into data bits. A swarm of attacks flew at him, but either passed through or fizzled out as they hit him. Vritramon's pain-tortured mind had just enough time to see what he thought was someone sitting at a desk, staring at him before he burst into data and was sucked into the light.

Somewhere in the real world, a mysterious woman sat back in her chair and smiled at a download complete' message on her screen, a full status bar flashing beneath it.

"Vritramon," she mused, "I have you now, my little dragon."

Daniel waited in the bus shelter for his ride, the ground covered in early morning dew. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets, his CD player earphones were playing in his ears. He was absorbed in his own thoughts, as he often was when he went to school. When he was younger, he had never really thought much about dying, but given that his condition was deteriorating and his life expectancy rapidly dwindling, he often thought of why he needed to go to school anymore. He was in third year, having completed his exams, and he couldn't help but think it was all for nothing: chances are he would be dead within a few years, before even reaching college. 

His pessimistic thoughts were abruptly punctured as the blue double-decker pulled up to the pavement. He climbed on, giving a brief greeting to the conductor and driver before moving to the centre of the second floor. He slumped in a seat and stared out the window.

If it weren't for Nicole, he wouldn't have bothered. Nicole was his one true friend. He wasn't exactly a pariah. People generally liked him (partly, he suspected, from sympathy) and he was grateful. He just didn't mix well and Nicole was the only other person from his primary school to have gone to the same secondary school as him. She was the only friend he had that didn't make an obvious attempt to watch their words in case they offended him. 

His cloud of gloom deepened, despite the short time left until their holidays. Now that he thought about it, it was simply another day passing, becoming all the more closer to the end. When the bus pulled up to the school gates, he waited until everyone else on his floor was past him on the way to the stairs when he stood up and made his way off.

"All right, Danny?" came a cheerful voice from his side. He looked up to see Nicole running toward him. He gave a nod and removed his earphones. 

"Morning. You're all bright cheery today. End of term giving you the jitters?" 

"Uh-huh. What's up with you? Oh. Thinking of your poor wee ticker aren't you?" Despite himself, Daniel couldn't help but grin at her candour. Not even his parents were as open and frank about his condition as she was. It made a refreshing change. They walked side by side and talked about nothing in particular. When the bell rang, they stopped.

"What have you got now?"

"Tech. What about you?" 

"Modern. See you later, then."

"See you after." She had barely run out of sight when a powerful hand tapped him on the shoulder.

"Wavin' goodbye to your girlfriend, eh Higgins?" Daniel froze. He recognised that arrogant drawl. 

"Brian." he quavered, "What do you want?" Brian Soutar, the biggest boy in fourth year had developed a taste of picking on the weaker students. He had his usual entourage, Gary, Paul and Andrew. 

"Nothing in particular Higgins." he sneered, but it was clear he was after something. Not wanting to provoke anything, Daniel tried to walk quickly away, but was stopped by Andrew, who stepped in his way. A nervous pang ran through him. He hated fights and confrontations.

"Hold it, Higgins." said Andrew, "Didn't your mam teach you manners?" he shoved Daniel back toward Brian who grabbed a bunch of Daniel's shirt and sweater in his ham-like fist. Things seemed to be getting out of hand when a teacher, by some stroke of misfortune his next teacher, saw what was happening and called to them. Brian swiftly released him and put on a sickeningly sweet grin.

"Alright sir? Just cleanin' Higgins' sweater. Pure horrible, man. Isn't it?" He asked his mates who promptly agreed.

"Brian, isn't it? Get to your class, or it'll be detention for the lot of you!"

"How? We havna done anything wrong!" The teacher began walking toward them and they quickly scarpered.

"See you after, Higgins." he called mockingly.

In his third class, Computing, he was half-asleep with boredom. His teacher droned on and on, explaining about this and that in the computer's systems. He couldn't wait until his next year, when they would let them disassemble an older computer to see how it worked. Until then, he would have to put up with this snooze-fest.

He received a poke in the ribs which made him jump. Nicole sat beside him and grinned. He returned the favour by elbowing her. Unfortunately, this did not go unnoticed.

"When you have finished poking and prodding each other, Daniel and Nicole, perhaps you could tell me what the address bus does?" They both jumped, drawing whispers and grins from their classmates.

__

_Dirty-minded lot, _Thought Daniel irritably. 

"Daniel? Would you mind coming up here to point out the address bus?" Daniel gave a soft sigh and stood up. As he walked to the front, a sudden excruciating pain exploded in his chest. It took his breath away and he stopped in his tracks. 

"Is something wrong?" his teacher's voice sounded mildly sarcastic, and a little concerned.

"I'm... Fine sir." he croaked. He resisted the overwhelming urge to clutch at his chest. He noticed the anxious look in Nicole's eyes, but bravely started walking again. Within moments, the agony struck again with redoubled force. He cried out and clutched at his chest with both hands. 

"Daniel? What is it?" his teacher was hurrying toward him. Daniel dropped to his knees. He could hear the frightened and confused voices around him, but he no longer cared. All he could think about was the agony in his chest that felt like his chest was about to burst. He fell sideways and the pain pushed darkness into his eyes. 

Daniel slowly opened his eyes. Everything was in a haze as tears distorted his vision. He blinked them away and realised he was somewhere to which he was no stranger. A hospital. He tried to sit up, but he felt no strength within him. 

"Daniel! Thank God!" he recognised two voices on either side. His parents. His mother sat by him, holding his hand. His father stood on his left side. A series of tubes and intravenous drips ran from a hanging drip next to his father into his left hand and wrist.

"MomDad?" 

"We're here son." his dad said with a reassuring smile. His eyes were wet with tears, as was his mothers. She stroked his hand softly.

"Just sleep, Daniel. Don't try to talk. The doctors will take care of you." his mother spoke softly, barely audible. Her words weren't necessary as a powerful urge to sleep took him over and he slipped once again into unconsciousness. 

*Forstner's Disease is a fictional disease, based on my own condition Angina Pectoris which is basically severe chest pains. I mean absolutely no disrespect to anyone who suffers from a similar disease. Forstner is in actual fact, the name of a type of drill bit, so I haven't deliberately taken a person's name and used it inappropriately.

By the way, please tell me if any Scottish slang or anything like that baffles you. It's the way my friends and me usually talk (although I have an English accent; long story.) 


	2. Non Linear Genetics

"Why do you insist that the genetic code is "sacred", or "taboo"? It is a chemical process, and nothing more. For that matter, WE are chemical processes and nothing more. To deny yourself a useful tool, simply because it reminds you uncomfortably of your own mortality is to hopelessly, and pointlessly cripple yourself."  


  
Chairman Shenji Yang Sid Meiers' Alpha Centauri.  


  
Chapter 2: Non Linear Genetics  


  
"Welcome, Mr and Mrs Higgins. I am Doctor Scott Brady. Please take a seat."  


  
Mr and Mrs Higgins, both tremendously pale, sat in the two comfy chairs in front of Brady's desk. Brady, a middle-aged man with black hair and a bald spot on the tip of his crown, with piercing grey eyes was sat on the other side, his hands clasped together, leaning his chin on his hands. Mr and Mrs Higgins were both extremely frightened by what had happened to their son. They knew he was sick, but they had never dreamed it would come to this.  


  
"Mr Brady, please..." spoke Mrs Higgins in a quiet voice, almost tearful, "Will Daniel live?" Doctor Brady sighed and sat back.  


  
"I'm afraid your son is dying, Mrs Higgins. His heart can no longer sustain him. He has, at best, a few weeks to survive before he dies." Mrs Higgins gave a startled cry and buried her face in her hands, sobbing hysterically. Mr Higgins, his eyes running with tears gently embraced her.  


  
"Isn't there something, anything you can do?" Brady sat forward, peering at them thoughtfully.  


  
"As a matter of fact, there may be something we can do..." At this, Mrs Higgins' head instantly snapped up and stared him straight in the eye.  


  
"Is there? What is it? Tell me!"  


  
"Please calm down, Mrs Higgins. Take a moment to collect yourself, and I will tell you everything." Mrs Higgins quickly mopped her eyes and suppressed her tears. After a few moments of sniffing and wiping her eyes, she looked up.  


  
"An old associate of mine, a Japanese gentleman named Mr Yamaki has recently been developing a new form of high-tech medical analysis and treatment facility. He has taken an interest in your son's condition lately and has come up with a proposition."  


  
"What kind of proposition?" demanded Mr Higgins.  


  
"That your son become the test subject for our technology, Mr Higgins." a calm voice growled from the back. Both Mr and Mrs Higgins quickly glanced at the door to see a tall man, dressed in an immaculate navy business suit, spiky blonde hair and dark sunglasses waiting calmly in the threshold.  


  
"Ah, there you are Yamaki. These are Daniel's parents. Paul and Louise Higgins." Yamaki smiled warmly and extended his hand.

  
  
"Pleased to meet you." They shook his hand, somewhat tersely, but returned his greeting nonetheless.  


  
"I used to work for the Japanese government. I now work under the new UN department for research into the Digital and Real Worlds. To be precise, I work for the Department of Genetic and Digital Research. I have been working on a new method of directly influencing cellular growth and change using digital information."  


  
"You mean like genetic engineering?" Paul Higgins wasn't entirely comfortable with the notion of volunteering his son for anything to do with genetics.  


  
"Something like that. It's too difficult and complex to explain everything about the procedure to you now. All you need to know is that there is absolutely no chance of your son dying as a direct result of our treatment. All I ask is that you sign these forms..." he waved a wad of papers in front of them, "and give permission for us to use your son in our program."  


  
"But what exactly are you going to do to him?" demanded Mrs Higgins.  


  
"We want to cure him. We want to test our ability to treat genetic illnesses after birth, in early teen years, when the effects of most genetic diseases such as Downs Syndrome become most apparent."  


  
"Will he be okay?"  


  
"I assure you ma'am that your son will be among the greatest scientific minds in the world. Geneticists, digital and biological lifeform specialists, the works. Your son will have approximately seventy-two percent chance of surviving after treatment."  


  
"Your son has no chance whatsoever of living beyond the end of next week without treatment." added Doctor Brady, "If you decide to volunteer, you will receive the treatment free of course. We will keep you up to date on his status at all times." Mr and Mrs Higgins exchanged worried glances.  


  
"Where exactly will this treatment take place?" asked Mrs Higgins.  


  
"I'm afraid I cannot say. It is a secure complex and a classified project. Among those forms is an Official Secrets Act, which your Parliament requires you to sign for legitimacy. Again, this is entirely your choice. Please decide."  


  
"Now? Can't we think on it?"  


  
"I'm sorry, but we cannot wait. We need time to prepare our equipment, and since your son is in a critical condition, time is of the essence. I'm afraid you will have to decide now." Yamaki placed the pile of forms down on the table and stepped back.  


  
"It is entirely up to you."  


  
Mr and Mrs Higgins leaned closer and whispered to each other. After a few minutes of deliberation, with heavy sighs, they pulled the forms to themselves and started filling them in.  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
Somewhere in the Mojave Desert:  


  
Vritramon slowly opened his eyes to see a concrete roof, cracked and grey above him. He tried to move, but found his limbs were still weak. He groaned softly and closed his eyes again.  


  
What the Hell happened? Why do I feel so weak? Where am I?  


  
He could feel cold metal across his waist, ankles, wrists, neck and halfway down his tail and he realised he had been restrained. Not that it was necessary. He also realised there were two strange containment devices attached to his wings. Apparently to stop his fiery wings igniting anything.  


  
Questions swirled in his head until he couldn't bear it and tried to block it out. He barely recalled the chaos he had experienced before he had lost consciousness. Losing the data of every Digimon he had ever defeated, only to have them all materialise directly before his eyes.  


  
He barely noticed the woman enter his concrete prison. She stood at the door uncertainly. He turned his head to look at her. Behind her, two grim- looking guards armed with automatic weapons stood in khaki. The woman was dressed in a white lab coat with a nametag, which he couldn't make out. She clutched a clipboard to her chest and wore a pair of glasses. Her brown hair was tied up in a bun behind her head. She chewed on her lip nervously before walking cautiously toward Vritramon. She sat on the chair by his restraint.  


  
"Vritramon? Can you hear me?" She spoke abnormally loudly and clearly, as if addressing a barely conscious patient.  


  
"I can hear just fine, human." He growled irritably. She jumped, apparently not expecting him to be so clear-headed.  


  
"Oh, you're awake." She spoke in an English accent.  


  
"Your powers of deduction astound me, human." He snapped. She frowned and pushed her glasses back into place. She examined her clipboard for a moment.  


  
"Do you know why you are here? Do you know what happened to you?" the scientist asked giving him a sideways glance.  


  
"I was hoping you were going to tell me that, since it was you people who brought me here." He growled. He was finding it hard to contain his mounting frustration at not being able to move. "Actually, we had nothing to do with this. You bio-emerged in the middle of a mall in New York. We brought you here for treatment." "Treatment? What are you talking about?" She glanced again at the clipboard, which annoyed him mightily. "Are you going to talk to me or the paper, human?" Her head snapped up, an embarrassed flush evident on her cheeks.  


  
"Oh. I'm sorry. I'm just not used to working with Digimon."  


  
"So?"  


  
"I'm afraid you have been infected with a virus." Vritramon was silent with confusion. A virus? Wasn't that a type of Digimon? What was she talking about? The scientist mistook his confused silence for shock. She chewed her lip again, not knowing what to say.  


  
"A virus?" he repeated.  


  
"Yes, and an insidious one too. It has wiped out your data arrays and your virtual RAM. It has obliterated your body's ability to store alien data, that is, data you have absorbed from those you have defeated and downloaded. As such, your body is now too weak to move anymore."  


  
"How? How did I get infected?"  


  
"It seems someone downloaded it directly into your body. It is highly improbable that you simply ran across it. Digimon are more complex data life forms than all known viruses can cope with."  


  
"You're saying someone had it in for me, so they tried to kill me by sabotaging me?"  


  
"I wouldn't say 'kill'. It seems you were pulled out of the Digital World deliberately. If they wanted you dead, for whatever reason that might be, they wouldn't have pulled you out, away from danger, where any stray Digimon could have scavenged you for your data."  


  
Vritramon fell silent, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. A human of all things had brought him to the brink of certain death. How could such feeble creatures humble him, Vritramon, the single most destructive force in the Digital and Real worlds?  


  
"Listen, I know this is a bit much for you, so just hear me out," the scientist offered gently, "We have a method of treating you, a method that is virtually risk-free. We have a critically ill boy coming to this facility. We have a treatment in place, but we need you." He turned his head and gave her a piercing stare.  


  
"You 'need me'? What for?"  


  
"You have provided a unique opportunity. Data from Digimon, when taken from their bodies is easily modified, changed or altered in ways that is impossible for cells from animals. We are hoping that the data you can provide for us will allow us to treat his illness. Of course," she tapped her clipboard against her hand, "We need your permission first. If you would just allow us to use you in the treatment, we could have you treated too, in about three months." Vritramon was silent in thought. Why should he allow them to use his body to treat some human brat? Was he not a warrior? But then, if the human was correct, and the virus was an insidious one, what if he died? How would the world (Both of them) exist without him? Unthinkable!  


  
"If I agree, what is my guarantee that I will be as strong as I was before I was infected?"

  
"None, I'm afraid. Treatment will not put your life at risk, but there is no possible way of restoring all the data you had absorbed over the period of time before you were infected. You will at least be able to move, and no longer in danger of succumbing to the virus." Vritramon didn't quite know if this would be worth it. How many years had he been fighting? So much time had been wiped out in a single moment. But his inner instinct told him that he must live, no matter what.  


  
"Fine. As long as you're going to treat me, I'll do it." The scientist smiled and scribbled something on her clipboard.  


  
"Great. You won't regret this. Treatment will start tomorrow. Thanks." Vritramon turned his head away and growled,  


  
"Whatever. Just leave me alone now, human." She left quietly.  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
Three months later, Mojave Desert, US.  


  
The jeep moved along the cross-desert highway, moving toward the facility where Vritramon was held. In the distance, rising up in front of them was the grey concrete and glass installation, surrounded by a chain-link fence. The jeep pulled up to the gates and a guard in khaki stepped out.  


  
"ID please?" he reached out and took a card from the man sitting in the back, next to his aide. The guard scrutinised the card carefully and glanced at the man's face.  


  
"Mr Garret, here to see Mr Yamaki." Said the man in the back.  


  
"Mr Garret with DARRC? I see. Do you have an appointment?" the guard said while handing back his card.  


  
"Unfortunately no, but it is an urgent matter. I'm on business from the UN."  


  
"Alright, sir. Go on through." The gate opened and the jeep drove through, moving toward the central building.  


  
"Sir? You have a visitor. He says it's urgent." Yamaki was standing in a sealed room with a large Lucite window, filled with a variety of monitors and computer equipment. There was staff at the computers, performing various tasks and operations. Through the window, two large cylinders filled with a light blue, mostly transparent, liquid could be seen. In each, the faint outline of a figure could be seen.  


  
"A visitor? I wasn't expecting anyone. Who is it?"  


  
"A Mr Garret, sir. Says he's with DARRC sir, and he's on urgent business from the UN." Yamaki was visibly annoyed. He raised his eyes, fixed his suit and motioned for one of the scientists in the room, a woman with brown hair tied in a bun with glasses.  


  
"Take over here. Inform me if anything happens."

  
  
"Yes sir." After Yamaki had left, one of the interns at the security monitor pointed to a screen and said,  


  
"Who's that guy?" The intern at the monitor next to her leaned over and frowned at the man in the immaculate black suit and shades.  


  
"Looks like the Men in Black to me," He joked, "But seriously, I think that's the guy who's in charge of DARRC."  


  
"What's "dark"?" said the female intern.  


  
"D.A.R.R.C. Stands for Digital Anomaly Research Regulatory Commission." Said the female scientist standing in for Yamaki, "A branch of the UN set up to check on research being done on Digimon, the Digital World and other things like that."  


  
"How do you know about them, Marie?" said the female intern.  


  
"I'm supposed to. We've been visited by them before, didn't you know that?" Marie replied.  


  
"I only started here a year ago. He looks weird." she scrutinised the man on the screen, "Kinda creepy, don't you think?"  


  
Mr Garret stood at the reception beside his aide. He wore an immaculate black suit with tie, a pair of dark sunglasses, which hid his eyes and a calm, detached expression. He was quite short and round, with very short and well-kept jet-black hair. His piercing gaze took his surroundings in, like a wary hawk. The reception desk was a semi-circle, with two guards in red and white uniform. They wore black berets as part of their uniform, with a small insignia on its front: A gene helix with the sign of alchemy, two snakes coiled around a staff, and the letters DGDR underneath.  


  
Yamaki, dressed in his dark blue suit and tie, with his shades, walked from an elevator and approached them. Garret was a good head-and-shoulders shorter than Yamaki.  


  
"Mr Garret. An unexpected pleasure." He extended his hand, smiling politely.  


  
"Mr Yamaki? Are you the one in charge?" Garret said, ignoring Yamaki's outstretched hand.  


  
"Yes I am." He said, his smile faltering slightly and dropping his arm, "And might I ask your business here?" He had already decided he didn't like him very much.  


  
"I've been sent by the UN. They wanted me to check up on your progress." He said, carelessly brushing something from the arm of his suit.  


  
"Already? The next inspection wasn't due for at least two months. I wasn't informed of this by UN."  


  
"This is a surprise inspection. We want to make sure you've been keeping up to scratch." Yamaki frowned.  


  
"What do you mean? All our operations here are cleared with the UN first, everything we do is above board and sent through the proper channels. Why the sudden interest?"  


  
"Not my business to know. Why, is there something wrong?"  


  
"No, nothing. All right, I'll take you through some of the labs. Let's get you cleared by security." The three of them, including Garret's aide walked to the security guards at the reception.  


  
"Mr Garret and entourage. Can you clear them?" he asked the guard watching the monitors.  


  
"Yes sir. Just one moment." He typed away at his computer for a few moments, before inserting a card into a slot. It beeped a few moments before sliding out again. He handed it to Garret.  


  
"Name?" he directed at the agent next to him.  


  
"Thomas Reiley." The man answered. The guard repeated the process for the man and handed him the card.  


  
"Valid for twenty four hours only." He warned, before moving back to watch the security monitors. Yamaki led the two men into an elevator and swiped his card. It began moving downwards.  


  
"Perhaps while we're waiting, you might explain a little of what it is you do here?"  


  
"You mean you don't know? UN never told you what it is we do here?"  


  
"They didn't tell me, because."  


  
"It's not your business to know, right?"  


  
"Exactly." Yamaki pushed his shades back into place before speaking,  


  
"Do you know what "Bio-emergence" is?"  


  
"When Digimon appear, without warning in the Real World for apparently no reason."  


  
"Textbook answer. Well, do you know how it works? How a cloud of mist can turn a creature made of zeros and ones into a living, breathing creature?"  


  
"I can't say that I do." Yamaki resisted a smirk. So he wasn't entirely arrogant.  


  
"When a Digimon in the Digital World Bio-emerges, a cloud of charged particles appear in the Real World. 

These particles attract atoms of whatever the Digimon needs to assume a physical form from whatever is nearby. Living cells from people and animals, metals and materials from cars, buildings and so on. Of course, because the rang is so wide, anything which loses molecules to the Digimon doesn't notice."  


  
"I see." Garret said, staring blankly ahead.  


  
"The Digimon gathers this material and changes it, through some kind of process, into the materials it needs to take form. We haven't figured out how it morphs metals and non-organic materials into different things, but we have a grasp of how it alters organic materials."  


  
The elevator door pinged and slid open. They were in an office, filled with cubicles and scientists running this way and that, holding files and folders, shouting for someone or something across the room.  


  
"Admin. Sometimes I get the feeling they start this organised chaos whenever I'm around." He tried a joke, but Garret seemingly didn't notice. He was watching a woman who was having a heated argument with another intern. Yamaki excused himself and approached them, followed by Garret and Reiley.  


  
"What's going on here?" he demanded.  


  
"There you are Yamaki!" the woman growled, rounding on him. Her nametag said "Y. Lewton"  


  
"What's wrong, Yvette? Have you just come back from your trip?"  


  
"As a matter of fact I have!" she hissed, "Why wasn't I informed that treatment on a live subject was started." she cast a cursory glance at the men standing behind him, which turned into a startled stare.  


  
"Mr Garret!" Yamaki looked from Garret to Lewton.  


  
"You know each other?" Garret cleared his throat, unconcerned.  


  
"We've met before. Please don't feel embarrassed on my account."  


  
"Thank you." He said, slightly annoyed, "Lewton, we'll talk later. Go and cool down in the staff room or something." She looked livid, as if she wanted to choke him. She said nothing, spun on her heel and stormed away toward the door.  


  
"Are you alright?" Yamaki asked the Intern.  
  
"Yes sir. She was just upset because we didn't tell her about the treatment. We tried to, but we couldn't find her anywhere."  


  
"That's alright. Get back to your duties." The intern excused herself and walked away.  


  
"My apologies. Lewton was away on business for a few months."  


  
"No need to apologise."  


  
Yamaki and Garret entered a second elevator, this time one that was opened only by Yamaki's card swipe. It slid open and the three entered.  


  
"You were explaining about this research?" Garret pressed.  


  
"Of course. As I said, we haven't figured out how they alter non-organic materials, but we have started to understand how they alter organic materials. Cells from animals and people."  


  
"And?"  


  
"The data from the Digimon is highly advanced. It seems it is capable of actually programming the cells and their DNA sequences to exactly the specifications the Digimon requires. In short, it literally programmes cell evolution and accelerates it from millions of years to a few seconds."  


  
"Incredible." And Yamaki thought that Garret actually sounded impressed too.  


  
"We've been using suspended animation technology to freeze a subject-two of them in fact- and use this incredible ability to reprogram their genes to fix certain abnormalities."  


  
"You have a test subject? Right now?"  


  
"Yes we do. A child, a fourteen-year-old male was volunteered for the project. He has Forstner's Disease, a disease that stunts the growth of the heart. When the child reaches his or her teens, the heart is too small and weak to sustain their body any longer, and the child dies. We have almost succeeded in reprogramming the faulty genes responsible and have accelerated he growth of the heart."  


  
"And how is the project progressing?" Garret was now looking at Yamaki with mild interest. Which was more encouraging than his bland manner of before.  


  
"It is going fine. The reprogramming was finished in the fourth week. The rest of the time since then has been simply waiting for his heart to develop. It had at least seven years of growth to catch up with, and it has almost completed this in the space of three months."  


  
"Fascinating. Would it be possible to see this subject?"  


  
"Would it help your investigation?"  


  
"As a matter of fact, it would. The UN would be doubtlessly encouraged if I were to give proof our your exceptional progress." Yamaki was excited. Finally, if they heard some proof of progress, heard it from their own people, maybe they would stop interfering. Yamaki swiped his card and pressed the 'stop' button. He pressed another button marked "restricted" with "Lab B5" marked underneath.  


  
"I'll show you our two subjects then."  


  
When the door opened, they stepped out into a large hangar-like area with a massive cargo elevator that slid downwards diagonally toward the depths of the facility.  


  
"How deep does this place go?" Garret asked, looking around at the walls and huge containers sitting nearby. As they talked, they walked onto the massive platform and Yamaki swiped his card. There was a beep and the elevator began grinding its way downward, an ice-cold breeze whooshing up to meet them.  


  
"About a mile down. We need to keep the equipment below cool, and in case of a problem, we need the depth to contain any mishaps."  


  
"Mishaps? You don't mean. Nuclear?"  


  
"Of course not. We don't have the funds to maintain the equipment needed, or the personnel. We use diesel, solar and thermal, as well as the power grid. We have ample power to keep us running in an emergency."  


  
"So what do you mean, "mishap"?"  


  
"You see those 'teeth' coming out the sides of the tunnel?" he said, pointing up at the ceiling. Garret looked up and saw square-shaped, yellow and black striped protrusions coming from huge slots in the walls.  


  
"What about them?"  


  
"If an emergency should occur, those security shutters will close. All in all, this shaft has twelve shutters, each capable of withstanding about an hour of continuous bombardment with high-grade HEAT rounds. Nothing will get through that passage, should the need arise to contain." After that, Garret fell silent and Yamaki led him through a set of huge security doors. When they were inside, Garret gave an almost audible gasp.  


  
Encased in two cylindrical vats were a boy, looking in his early teens, and a Digimon, who would have looked very menacing indeed had it been for the fact he was asleep. The boy had a complex series of tubes and IV drips leading to various veins in his body. Also, a complex suite of instruments was lying at the base of his tube, which a scientist in cold-protective clothing was working at.  


  
"Here," Yamaki said, handing Garret and Reiley their thick yellow suits with black mittens, "Put these on. It's minus four degrees Celsius in here." Garret absently took his clothing and put them on before walking toward the vats. He was staring intently at the vat containing Vritramon.  


  
Vritramon's wings were encased in what looked like ceramic seals, no doubt because his fiery wings would be problematic in liquid. He too had various instruments attached to his body, wires leading to the roof of the unit and to the floor. A vital monitor hummed softly by the side of each tube, displaying the occupant's condition. 

Garret was mesmerised by Vritramon's appearance. He walked right up to the tube and placed his mittened hands against it.  


  
"Uh, sir? Please don't touch, the instruments are very delicate."  


  
"Oh. I'm sorry." He said, removing his hands, but not moving any further away. Yamaki stood beside him and gazed up at the Digimon within.  


  
"Isn't he magnificent? He volunteered to assist our research because a virus had infected him. He bargained with us, that we would treat him in return for his help."  


  
"And the results?"  


  
"We've almost removed the virus. It should take a few weeks more, as will the boy's treatment." Both subjects, human and Digimon looked strangely peaceful within the vats. Daniel was naked apart from a pair of plain shorts. Vritramon was still in his armour, looking as dangerous and powerful as ever. Garret hadn't taken his eyes off Vritramon since he had entered the chamber and Yamaki was getting suspicious. He cleared is throat noisily, but Garret seemed to take no notice.  


  
"Hmm? Did you say something?"  


  
"You were staring at him." Garret looked back up at the Digimon, as if realising he was there and quickly stepped back.  


  
"I'm sorry, but I've never been this close to such a marvellous specimen before. To be this close to a Vritramon of all things."  


  
"You've seen his species before?"  


  
"Almost. We tried to capture a pair before, for study. They resisted. One was deleted, the other escaped."  


  
"For study? You actually entered the Digital World to capture Digimon? That's illegal!" Yamaki sounded shocked, but Garret shrugged.  


  
"We had permission. We needed a closer look at certain types, for scientific reasons of course."  


  
"Of course," acknowledged Yamaki, but he didn't sound convinced.  


  
"How long until treatment is finished?"  


  
"A few weeks, maybe three or four."  


  
"I trust all this is being kept strictly confidential?" Garret asked, giving Yamaki a sideways glance.

"Of course! You know what would happen if the press got one whiff of this. There'd be those damn anti-genetics and religious vultures at our gates and homes before you can say "no comment". Garret once more looked with what could almost pass for longing at Vritramon before asking Yamaki,  


  
"Tell me, is it possible to alter a persons physical appearance using your technology?"  


  
"What, you mean making them taller or changing their facial features?" Garret raised an eyebrow.  


  
"Well, I mean giving them things they didn't have before, such as wings." Yamaki frowned.  


  
"Well," he said slowly, "I suppose it would be possible, perhaps." He gave a suspicious look at Garret, "But why do you ask? That isn't what this technology is for."  


  
"Just curious. If it were to fall into the wrong hands."  


  
"The boy would pretty much be at their mercy." Yamaki finished chillingly.  


  
"Indeed. Well, Yamaki, I believe I have seen enough to compile a report."  


  
"A positive one I hope?"  


  
"Judging by what I've seen and heard, you can assume that the UN will be very pleased by your work. I will ensure you get the credit you and your staff deserve."  


  
Outside, Garret and his aide climbed back into their jeep. Once they had passed the gate, Garret brought out his cell phone and dialled a number. He pressed one finger to his ear. And held the phone to his other ear.  


  
"Garret here. Reconnoitre complete. Moving schedule ahead by five days." He listened intently for a few moments.  


  
"No time. They've already got two subjects just right for our needs. They're released in two weeks, approx. Reiley here has recorded our path through the facility. I planted the bug in their networks, so we should have 

access to their systems." He listened once more, then replied,  


  
"Alright. Get ready to initiate phase one in four days. You heard me; phase one commences in four days. We must take them before they are released." He was silent again for a good few minutes, and then he terminated the call with, "Understood, make preparations." Then he hung up.  


  
"Phase one in four days." he muttered to himself, "Well, Yamaki, let's see if your facility is as good as you boast."  


  
Notes: Sorry this took so long, but I've been VERY busy over the holidays. Merry Christmas and a happy New Year to one and all! Sorry if this chapter was a long and arduous read. I will try my best to complete the next with all haste, but homework is piling up once more. Now my holiday job is over I have more free time (And I'm rich!!) so I should be able to work on this more often. Thanks for the patience. PS: I'm now getting close to my exams, so don't expect fast updates. I'm afraid my studies come before this.


	3. Invasion

Chapter 3: Invasion

Nicole pressed the doorbell and waited. She was calling for Daniel's parents. It had been three months since Daniel had collapsed in school and she hadn't heard from him since that day. The only time she found out about him was when she visited his parents. Apparently, he had been taken to a specialist treatment centre in the United States. She dearly wanted to see him, hell, even just _talk_ to him would be fine. But she knew almost as much about his condition as he did. She knew the chances of him living were slight. But still

Her thoughts were interrupted as Mrs Higgins answered the door. Her young face was terribly pale and drawn.

"Hi, Mrs. Higgins. I was just dropping by." Mrs Higgins regarded Nicole for a few moments, as if trying to remember who she was.

"Oh, Nicole. Nice to see you." She waited at the door hesitantly. It was clear she was sick with worry.

"Would you like to some in?" She gave a strained smile.

"Yes, thanks." Nicole walked in and stood awkwardly in the hall. She hadn't felt comfortable in the Higgins' house since Daniel had been taken away for treatment, mainly because of his parents. They always had such hopeless looks of despair, always pale, as if he had been condemned to death. She hated the waiting, the anticipation, the not knowing what was happening.

"You're welcome to stay for tea, Nicole. It that's okay with you?" 

"Of course. Thanks, Mrs Higgins." She smiled her best encouraging smile and walked into the front room while Mrs Higgins went to the kitchen. In the living room was Mr Higgins, sitting with the TV on, but the volume on so low it was almost mute.

"Um Mr Higgins?" She was almost frightened with Mr Higgins' mood swings. Sometimes, when they thought she was out of earshot, he would become irrationally enraged, screaming about why they weren't keeping their promise to keep them informed, and sometimes he would cry most bitterly, and others, like now, he would be silent and scarcely acknowledge anyone's presence in the room. Nicole didn't know which was worse; at least when he cried, he would acknowledge her presence and Mrs Higgins' too.

Nicole decided she had better not disturb him. She walked into the kitchen and stood by while Mrs Higgins cooked dinner. They talked, a little less casually than they usually did, but it was a start. Every so often, when Mrs Higgins reached for a pot, a jar or anything, Nicole would notice her hand would tremble violently. They continued their small talk until dinner was almost ready, when they merely had to wait until the dinner had cooked for twenty minutes.

"I don't know how much longer I can take this" said Mrs Higgins suddenly, taking Nicole by surprise. It was the first time she had openly mentioned the fact that she was deeply worried about Daniel. 

"I want to know how he is I want to see him Hear his voice Anything!" She turned round and Nicole noticed that her eyes were wet with tears. Her eyes were red, suggesting she had been crying some time. Damn! How long had she been crying? How could she be so insensitive as not to notice she was crying? Nicole had no idea what to say to her. 

"I'm sure they'll be finished soon, Mrs Higgins. These things take time. It is a high-tech treatment, isn't it?" Mrs Higgins nodded and wiped her eyes, apparently not bothered whether Nicole saw her crying or not.

"They said it could take anything between a month and a year. I I don' want to be separated from him for that long Just one month is agony, but three?" Nicole felt close to tears herself. She embraced her and Mrs Higgins returned the embrace, crying softly. 

Please Just come back Daniel

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mojave Desert, USA

"FiveTest start." A computerized voice intoned. There was a loud series of beeps from each of the terminals and a progress bar appeared on the main screen.

"Well, that's that." Said a male intern, a Japanese man in his early twenties, "How long does the system test last?"

"It'll take about six hours." Said a female intern, an American barely in her twenties. 

"Incredible. The first system test took almost a week to complete."

"Technology has moved forward since then." Marie said from beside Yamaki's desk, "Alright, good work everyone. Take a break until the test is complete. All lab staff level green and higher, stay on alert in case anything happens." Marie spoke into the PA. Her voice resounded throughout the facility.

The Japanese man snorted, "Like that's gonna happen."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Outside, in the staff lounge, three of the interns who worked in the control room were talking. 

"It's amazing, the first system reset took a week to complete." Said Claire, the first intern. She ignored the stares of several male colleagues nearby. Young and only nineteen, she had been asked out with almost every male in the base by now.

  
"Don't remind me. That was when we had to take seven hour-shifts with just about two hours rest and relaxation in between." Said the second, the Japanese man named Ichiro. He stretched out and put his hands behind his head. "Man, I'm beat. I'm going for a drink, want one?"

  
"Sure thing." Said the two remaining interns, Claire and another woman, the same scientist who had coaxed Vritramon into volunteering for the treatment.

"I feel so sorry that boy Daniel is it?" said Claire. The scientist, Michelle, nodded and pushed her glasses back into place.

"Yes. It must be really horrible for his parents. Imagine what they must be going through"

"You know I wonder what DARRC wanted, you know, a couple of weeks ago? That Garret guy seemed awfully interested in Vritramon." Remarked Michelle. She picked up a magazine from a pile next to the chair and began to read. "I never did trust those people All that X-level stuffGives me the creeps."

"X-level? What do you mean?" Claire asked, resting her chin on her hand. 

"Oh, dirty stuff, genetics and biological sciences. Weaponry mostly."

"But I thought they dealt with Digimon and the Digital World." Said Claire, her eyes widening.

"I didn't mean DARRC in particular. That's the kind of stuff those organizations get up to though. People like us, you know, working for new medicines and treatments We've always got those nuisance diplomats and beaurocrats breathing down our necks, begrudging every penny they give us. But when the X-level organizations start churning out new bio-weapons and poisons, that's when they start crawling over themselves to get the money." She added with a clear bitterness.

"It makes sense though," quipped Claire, "If the public ever got wind of anything like that Even a rumor alone would cause the whole thing to explode in front of them."

"I'm back. What'd I miss?" Ichiro placed a tray of mugs, two with coffee, one with tea on the table in the middle of the chairs. 

"Cheers Ichiro." Said Michelle, taking her cup of tea.

"I'll second that." Added Claire, grabbing a black coffee. Ichiro took his own milky coffee and all 

three gulped their drinks, a chorus of loud glugs' as they did so.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A solitary guard stood at the entrance to the garage. Dressed in his white uniform, with black beret was standing guard, holding an automatic weapon. He was rather bored, not having ever experienced any action. All he did all day was stand here for two and a half hours, holding a weapon that may as well have been solid lead. His arms were aching and his legs were stiff. He sighed and shifted his weight from one leg to another, idly gazing over the different cars parked in the bay.

He failed to notice a single figure sneaking stealthily behind him. A figure in black body armor, with gasmask and helmet. In his hand was a combat knife. The figure quickly slipped an arm over the man's face and blocked his mouth, silencing the man's cry. He plunged the knife into the man's back, puncturing through to his heart. The man tensed up in pain and shock, then fell limp barely a few seconds later, warm blood dripping to the floor, forming a small puddle. Behind the two, the bay doors began to whine open. At first, all that was visible were dozens of pairs of black booted legs. Then black trousers, adorned with kneepads and shrapnel guards, followed by the torsos and automatic weapons, then the faces hidden in gasmasks. 

The man holding the dead guard pulled the man back into the standing squad and disappeared. The men raised their weapons and moved forwards, bent double, swishing this way and that. They moved in almost total silence.

They approached a guardhouse, a small concrete room with a glass partition for the guard inside to check the ID's of the drivers and open the gates outside. The squad stopped. The one in front, the squad leader made a gesture with two fingers, beckoning two of his men and motioning toward the checkpoint. He then made a fist and brought it sharply down, completing his gestured orders. The two men he summoned scuttled to the door and knelt on either side, their backs to the wall. One of them put his automatic on his strap and pulled a long, silenced pistol from his leg-holster. He nodded to the other who carefully reached up and began softly turning the knob.

The guard inside was watching a football game. He sat with his feet up, sipping from a mug of coffee, an ashtray of cigarettes lay smoking at his elbow. Very slowly and softly, the door began to open behind him. The two men sneaked in and the man with the pistol raised it. He fired while the man was in mid sip and hit him in the back of the head. The man instantly went limp, his coffee hit the floor and smashed, black coffee mixing with crimson blood. They dragged his body from his chair and stuffed him under the desk. The leader touched the side of his head and spoke very softly.

"Bravo unit. Garage is secure, no problems. Over."

"Alpha unit," a second voice crackled in through the radio, "Alarm system hacked. Communications jammed. All level one security devices overridden. Proceeding to lower levels. Over."

"Sir, we have found two interns here. They are unarmed. What should we do?"

"Execution of non-combat personnel has been authorized. Terminate them."

  
"Yes sir." And through the radio, a series of silenced gunshots punctured the silence.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yamaki was watching the monitor in the control room intently. Beside the system test status bar, a pair of windows with the vital information of Vritramon and Daniel could be seen. Claire and Ichiro had returned for their half-hour shift and were sitting at their monitors.

Suddenly, Claire cried out, "Who the hell is that?" She pointed to her monitor. 

"Beam it up on the main screen." Yamaki ordered. Claire obeyed, tapping the keys of her console rapidly. On the main screen, a man in black body armor rushed past the camera, bent double, holding a gun. As they watched, several more passed by.

"Who the hell" Yamaki started, but one man suddenly stopped and glanced up at the camera. He seemed surprised at first, if it was possible to tell behind the gasmask, but he raised his weapon at pointed it at the camera. There was just enough time to see a bright flash in the gun's muzzle before the screen burst into static.

"Issue a Level One alert! Prepare for combat! Inform the security that there may be terrorists that have already infiltrated the facility!" Claire pulled her mouthpiece toward her mouth and began speaking over the intercom.

"All personnel to Level One Alert. Unidentified hostiles have infiltrated level one and are armed. Security, please safeguard the elevators and stairways. Report to your CO for more instructions."

"Inform all non-essential non-combat personnel to evacuate via underground route four." Yamaki ordered and Claire conveyed the message over the intercom.

  
"Could they be terrorists?" Marie muttered to Yamaki. He stood up and walked over to Ichiro's station, leaning over his shoulder.

"Ichiro, playback that recording again." Ichiro obeyed and played the recording of the men in the black armor again. "Hold it there!" Ichiro paused the image when several men were running by at once. "That's odd"

"The man in front He's carrying a Glock Isn't that Russian?" Marie frowned at the image.

"Yes but the man behind him has an MP5, and a Reading 12'. Those are British weapons." Yamaki scratched his chin.

"And I'm sure that man who fired at the camera had an M6 That's American." Added Ichiro. 

"Why are there different nationalities in a single terrorist group?" Claire spoke up. 

"Are you sure they're terrorists? Their armor looks a little too authentic to be some rag-tag group of revolutionaries. I'd say they look more Special Forces."

"Ichiro, try to find any insignia that will identify them, and keep me informed of the intruders progress through the facility. Claire, send an emergency call to the Head Office, tell them we're under attack." Both interns got to work, Ichiro scouring his monitor and watching the images flit by. Claire was speaking into her mouthpiece.

"All we can do now is wait" Yamaki said, sitting back at his desk.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Michelle was dazed and confused. All she could hear was people running back and forth outside the toilet. She opened the door and looked out. Two interns in uniform ran past the door, but they were suddenly thrown back. Loud gunshots blasted from the end of the corridor and the two young interns were thrown back, blood spurting in all directions until they collapsed in a heap, their white uniforms stained red. Michelle put her hand to her mouth and gasped in horror. She rapidly slammed the door and locked it.

She looked around, trying to think of a way to escape. She then remembered that there were air vents above each cubicle. She ran to the nearest one, her heart pounding in her throat, crying hysterically. She lowered the lid of the toilet and stood on it, reaching up to the ceiling. There was the vent, just in reach. It was barely large enough to accommodate her, but it was her only chance. She desperately hammered on it, trying to pull it open. It came loose and crashed to the floor. Just then, there was a loud bang on the door.

Close to outright panic, Michelle tried to pull herself up. She wasn't a strong woman, and couldn't pull herself into the vent. She pulled and pulled, lifting her legs up. Her high-heeled shoes fell to floor with a loud clip-clop. There was a shout at the door, "Someone's in here!" and a furious banging ensued.

The man outside the door lowered his weapon and fired at the door, blowing open the lock. He and two others piled in, pointing their weapons this way and that. All but one of the cubicles was open. The first man beckoned with his fingers at the closed door. As he passed one of the cubicles, he glanced down and saw two high-heeled shoes lying in front of one of the toilets. He slowly gazed upwards, his eyes resting on the open vent. With a wicked grin, hidden by his mask, he raised his weapon and opened fire. The ceiling exploded in puffs of plaster, slats of ceiling coming loose and crashing to the floor. He stood on the toilet and poked his head into the hole.

  
"Did you get em?" one of the soldiers called. The first man peeked into the galvanized metal duct and peered along its length.

"Nah. No-one's here."

"Let's try this cubicle here then." The men received a message over their radios.

"Unit 7, what's your status? You're falling behind!"

"Sorry sir. Just chasing up an escapee."

"Gregory, you take care of it. Wesley and King, get back to your unit!" The two men on the floor shrugged ruefully at Gregory and ran out the door. Gregory cursed and peered again into the duct. Then he remembered the closed cubicle. From his height, he couldn't see inside the end cubicle. He hopped down and moved slowly toward the end cubicle.

"Come on out, I won't hurt you. Give yourself up, and I'll take you topside without a scratch." When he received no answer, he raised his weapon and pointed it at the door of the end cubicle, making his way toward it. When he reached it, he stood closer and gently knocked on it, hoping to scare the occupant. He got quite a shock.

Michelle, after hearing his knock, panicked and kicked the door full force into the man's face. He was thrown back and hit the wall. He slid down slowly and crumpled to the floor. Michelle was too shocked to move for a moment. She slowly stood, brushed herself off and walked unsteadily toward the unconscious man. She noticed his weapon lying by his side. Gingerly, she picked it up and held it to the light.

"Oh God" she murmured as she examined the machine gun, "Please tell me this isn't happening" she held the weapon in a ready position. She examined the loading chamber and saw that it was ready to fire.

"Pull it together, Michelle. Just get to the garage Then you'll be fine." Sniffing, wiping her nose on her sleeve, she picked up her glasses which, surprisingly had survived intact. She replaced them on her nose and stood, trembling slightly. Then she made her way to the door, cautiously looked left and right at the threshold, then left with the gun in her arms.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yamaki had never felt so helpless since he had let Takato and his friends enter the Digital World over ten years ago. He could only watch as the monitor, depicting each section of the facility as a yellow and black hexagon slowly turned to red and black, indicating hostile takeover. He bit his thumbnail nervously, Claire and Ichiro and three other interns sitting at their consoles watching helplessly as the base was slowly being taken over.

Finally, Yamaki spoke, "This is hopeless. We're just suffering casualties. Tell them we surrender." Everyone around the room, including Marie, his second-in-command stared at him in shock.

"Sir? Are you sure?" Ichiro spoke out. Yamaki bowed his head and nodded.

"We are suffering pointless deaths. Me might as well" There was a stifled cry from one of the consoles, attracting everyone's attention.

"Ichiro! Oh God!" It was Claire, visibly recoiling in her seat as she stared in horror at something on her screen. Ichiro leaned over and his eyes widened as he beheld the image.

"Those sick Those bastards!" 

"What is it? What's happening?" The image was beamed up on the main screen. They sat in shocked silence as they saw what it was that had shocked Claire and Ichiro. The soldiers in black had cornered a group of interns trying to escape in a small office. One of the men had a flame-thrower. He raised it at the cowering men and women and activated it. Within seconds, the screen was obscured in the thick tongues of flame. Several interns looked away in disgust or fear, others stared in speechless horror, as the interns were burned alive. 

"Sir We can't We would" Ichiro stammered. Marie bent down and whispered in his ear:

"Sir, we cannot allow ourselves to be captured. We would be killed for sure." Yamaki pressed a button on his panel, blanking the image on screen. He stood up and addressed the staff in the room.

"Listen to me everyone." Every head turned in his direction expectantly, completely silent, "We are evacuating this facility. Send a general alert and order all security to protect the remaining staff to escape. Order all non-combat personnel to the level four escape route." There was an instant buzzing as the interns began speaking simultaneously, issuing different commands and instructions.

"What about our data? Our files? What about Vritramon and Daniel?" Marie whispered.

"Daniel can be evacuated with us. Vritramon" he thought carefully, not knowing how they were going to evacuate the beast. Then, a thought struck him.

"I think I know how to get Vritramon. I'll get those two," he added suddenly, looking Marie in the eye, "You ensure there is nothing left of use in the data files. Destroy and delete everything you possibly can, then get out."

"What about you?"

"I'll get Daniel and Vritramon out." As he spoke, he opened his desk drawer and pulled a handgun out. He slid the clip from the grip, glanced at the bullet-count to ensure it was fully loaded, then pushed it back in. He pulled the loading chamber back and released it with a loud click-click. Some of the staff turned to stare at him.

"If I'm not back in twenty minutes, go ahead without me and I'll catch you up later." He called over his shoulder as he ran for the door.

Yamaki arrived at the large elevator not a moment too soon. The lift had barely moved a few metres from the top when the ceiling blew out and troops began descending on ropes. Yamaki quickly tapped a sequence in the huge panel on the elevator. Slowly, the huge blast doors above him began to groan as they closed. He stared up at the figures descending rapidly from the ceiling, getting closer to the elevator all the time. It would take almost fifteen seconds for the blast door to seal

One of the soldiers arrived through the blast door just in time. He made it down to the surface of the elevator just as the blast door closed, snagging his rope. He released himself and fell the last few feet to the elevator.

Yamaki raised his gun, aiming for the man struggling with his harness. Just then, he thought of those interns being flamed by the troops. He thought of the deaths of many innocent men and women, at the hands of these thugs. He didn't realise the man was picking a knife form his belt. The man threw the knife at Yamaki, a sliver of flashing death hurtling toward him. It embedded itself in Yamaki's shoulder, causing him to release the gun. 

The soldier freed himself and sidled casually toward Yamaki who was struggling to remove the knife. He stood over him and pointed his machine gun at Yamaki's head.

"Two-two-zero here. I've found Yamaki. Commencing termination." He said with casual ease, almost a tone of a laugh as he said commencing termination.' The man pointed his gun at Yamaki's head. "Sorry pal. Nothing personal." He said with a laugh.

Enraged, Yamaki threw his foot upwards, scything the gun from the man's hands. He stood up, bringing a furious fist into the man's face. Despite his gasmask, the man staggered backwards, stunned by the blow. Before he knew it, Yamaki was forcing him backwards in a furious hail of blows. When he hit the side of the elevator, Yamaki pressed the gun under the man's chin.

"No offense taken." He snarled. He pulled the trigger.

When Yamaki reached the lab, he was holding his bleeding wound with his hand, trying to stem the flow. He staggered forward, swiping his card in the reader. The huge doors hissed open slowly, a cold blast of air streaming out as it opened. He made his way over to the two stasis tubes, grabbing a cool-protection coat as he went. He checked the status of treatment. 

The first read: "Daniel Higgins, Status: OK, Completion: 98.87% complete." 

The second read: "Vritramon, Status: OK, Completion: 68.98% complete." Yamaki stared at the completion on Vritramon's tube. Damn! He had counted on their completions being within the safety zone: at least 87% or higher. No time to wait.

Yamaki entered a series of codes and an alarm began blaring. An emergency light started revolving, shining a yellow beam in a circular motion.

"Sorry Vritramon," he said quietly, swiping his card, "But I'd rather you were dead than in the hands of terrorists." He completed the codes and a loud beeping occurred. Vritramon was suddenly broken into hundreds of data bits. These were sucked upwards, into many hundreds of little wires and cables, which led into Daniel's tube. Satisfied, Yamaki opened up Daniel's tube, standing at it's side so he wasn't soaked by the liquid that poured out. Daniel, his skin ghostly pale, fell forwards. Yamaki caught him, and after checking his temperature, wrapped his cold-protective coat around him.

"You're safe now, Daniel. I won't let those bastards have you" and with that, he staggered toward a door at the far end of the room, marked "emergency."

Notes

I've been juggling between two of my stories recently. In addition to mounting homework (Big tests coming up soon) I've been trying some new games too. I'll try harder to get my other story updated soon, and I won't leave this one as long either.

PS: Thanks to nightdragon0 for the tips on HTML. I can now format my documents properly, and finally include altered text. Cheers!


	4. Test Model: Anubis

Okay, okay. I took a long time to update. To tell the truth, I was concentrating on my other story for a while and I sorta got stuck with my exams and all (Fortunately after next week, there's no more till next year!)

I'll try to update faster, but I can't make promises (I don't like to make promises I can't guarantee I'll keep)

* * *

Chapter 4: Test Model: Anubis 

Everything swirled around Daniel in a haze of colour. At first, he thought he was flying. He felt a breeze on his naked limbs that made him shiver. Then he opened his eyes. Above him, a young man with spiked blonde hair and dark shades was carrying him. His gaze was fixed determinedly ahead. He tried to speak, but only a soft groan escaped.

Yamaki glanced down.

"Don't try to talk, Daniel. Just rest. I'll get you out of here. Just hang on a while longer. I won't let those bastards get you. I promise."

Daniel closed his eyes again. He felt… weird. His whole body felt fuzzy. His head felt like something was rushing around inside it. A strange warmth was spreading from the centre of his chest outwards, permeating his body and pushing outwards into his limbs. What was going on? Why was this man carrying him wrapped in a furry coat? He noticed the ceiling was stone grey. The walls had emergency red lights flashing along them. Strobe lighting which flashed in one direction, highlighting a route.

Yamaki stopped to rest a moment. He gently lay Daniel down and picked out his cell phone. He quick-dialed the control room.

"Marie? Marie, get out of there. I have Daniel. Vritramon's safe. Get all the survivors out of the facility, now!"

"Sir? We're cut off from sublevels one to three. The second unit can't withdraw. What do we do? Leave them?"

"Tell them to use the access elevator at block C. They should be able to take it straight down to maintenance. Clear route to escape train. What about the drives?"

"Everything that couldn't be copied to disk is wiped. Michelle isn't answering calls. Have you seen her?"

"How could I? I'm in lab five." He chewed his lip. Michelle was an important staff member. She had one of the cards capable of unsealing the lab five elevator blast doors. He knew he couldn't do anything about that.

"If you can't reach her then we'll have to leave without her. I can't risk more people going after her when she could be anywhere. Evacuate now!"

Marie gave the affirmative and hung up. Yamaki put away his phone and scooped up Daniel again.

"What's goin' on?" he asked groggily.

"Easy kid. I can't explain everything here, but rest assured I will get you out."

* * *

In the level three control room, Marie and the remaining interns were rapidly packing all the disks containing many terabytes of data into three cases. Once the cases were filled up, Marie assigned the codes to each one to Ichiro and Claire. She kept the final code to herself. 

"All the data here is worthless without all three cases. Ichiro, Claire. Do not share these codes with anyone. Do you understand? No one." Her voice was stern and Claire and Ichiro nodded, exchanging frightened glances.

"Everyone! We are pulling out!" The room had been filled with the surviving staff who had not escaped. A pathetically small number compared to the facilities' complement. The injured were helped out through the second door by the guards and staff. Finally, only Marie and Claire remained.

"Ma'am? Come on, let's go!"

Marie stared at the monitor, watching the troops slowly overrun the remaining levels.

"Claire? Why do you think they're after us? What do you think they want?"

"I don't know ma'am. Really I don't. But I'd rather not hang around to find out. Please!"

Marie took one last glance at the monitor and ran out using the emergency exit with Claire.

* * *

Michelle was kneeling beside a comrade's SUV car. It's tall profile allowed her to easily see underneath. Three guards had captured an intern. She trembled with terror as two of them held their guns to her face. The third called on his radio: 

"Sir, we have a prisoner. What do we do with her?"

"I've already told you. Terminate any personnel you find. No witnesses." The voice hissed back over.

"That's all I wanted to hear." He said, replacing his radio on his shoulder. "Hold her." The two soldiers on either side grabbed an arm and held her still, keeping their weapons pointed at her.

"Wha… What are you going to do?" she stammered in a trembling voice. He ran a gloved hand over her cheek. Her eyes widened and she stared back like a trapped deer.

"Such a waste." He said wistfully. He abruptly tore her tunic off, drawing a terrified scream. He proceeded to unbutton her shirt from the bottom up. The two other soldiers laughed and held her still, keeping their weapons lodged against her chin.

"Help!" she cried desperately, "Help me!" The soldier undressing her slapped her savagely.

"Shut up."

Michelle was unaware of her tears pouring from her eyes blurring her vision. All she could think about was the blood pounding in her ears and the rage and indignation. She swung round from the SUV and pointed her weapon. The intern saw her and suddenly stopped weeping.

"Get down!" She shouted. Her shout startled the men and they spun round to see her. No longer being held, the intern dived down and covered her head. The next thing she knew there was the sound of gunfire whizzing above her head and the terrified girl started screaming. The sound abruptly ceased.

"You can get up now," Came Michelle's' voice. The girl looked up to see the three men lying dead around her.

Michelle knelt down and comforted the trembling woman. She removed her white lab coat and wrapped it around her. She looked down at the leader of the thugs and picked up his weapon. She handed it to the girl.

"Take this." She said soothingly, "You'll be fine." The girl tried to hold it, but her hands trembled so badly the gun rattled.

"I…I can't… I…" Tears formed in her eyes again.

"Why? Didn't those men just…?"

"I can't fire this thing!" she cried, "I...just can't…"

"You've had basic training…" Michelle tried.

"But I shot at targets! Not at living human beings!" Michelle nodded grimly. She realised she wouldn't get this girl to fight. She looked around to see if any more soldiers were near.

"Listen," she spoke gently, "I've got to open the bay doors. Then we can take my car and…" She was cut off when a sudden blinding stream of light bathed them both. An armored vehicle came rolling down the tunnel, its headlights glaring at them. She gasped and aimed her weapon. It was useless, though. There was no way her bullets could work. The intern shrieked and curled up again, clutching her head. Michelle waited for the mounted gun to start firing. It didn't.

"Michelle!? Is that you?" The voice came from the mounted speaker. Michelle lowered her weapon slightly.

"Who's that?" she called. The hatch opened on the top and a guard appeared.

"It's me. Jason. Geez, we've been looking for a way out, and we bump into you! It's great you're okay."

"I'm fine." She knelt down and laid a hand on the girl's back. "But she isn't. Come down here and look after her. I've got to open the tunnel to let us out."

The guard jumped down and jogged over, an automatic weapon in his arms. He knelt down and spoke softly to her. Michelle ran over to the guard box and examined the controls. She saw the lever for the parking bay entrance and pulled it down into the 'open' position. The huge bay door at the end of the parking lot began opening.

Jason the guard helped the intern to her feet and guided her toward the back of the APC. The door whined open and he helped her in. As Michelle got it she was pleasantly surprised to find five other staff who had survived waiting in the troop compartment. The staff all looked up and smiled with relief as they saw two more survivors get in.

"We're out of here!"

* * *

Outside, Garret and his aide, Thomas Reiley were standing inside a black van with satellite dishes attached to the roof. They were watching the strike forces' progress with the help of a GPS. 

"Sir, Black Unit and Red Unit have entered the Lab 5 elevator shaft. The blast doors are sealed. What do we do?"

Garret cursed and banged his fist on the table. He had counted on Yamaki being clumsy and leaving them open. Apparently he was wrong.

"Sir, we have satchels and Semtex, but it could take at least a month to blast our way through all the doors. We simply don't have the firepower to break through them."

He cursed again. Reiley spoke up:

"Sir, why not bring a specialist team in? I believe they use industrial-strength lasers for his kind of thing."

"That would take even longer. Even now, they could be shipping the subjects out of the lab. I want them. DARRC wants them." He fell silent. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Sir?" Reiley was used to seeing his boss make his 'thinking' motion. "What alternative is there?" Garret ignored him and pulled a cellphone from his pocket. He quick-dialed a number and pressed it to his ear. He waited for a moment.

"Garret here. Put me through to Turcottes' department." There was silence again. "Turcotte? It's Garret. I need to ask a favour."

Garret walked outside, still immersed in his phone. Curious, Reiley followed.

"I need you to assign an Avatar to me." Garret said. Reiley raised an eyebrow.

"The Avatars, sir? Isn't that a little over the top?" Garret placed a hand over the mouthpiece.

"Why not? They were designed to be used, not sit in stasis forever." He spoke back into the phone.

"Yes, send the Anubis model. That's right. Have it airdropped at the DGDR facility in the Mojave. I trust you can make arrangements?" He nodded to himself, as if confirming what he was hearing on the other end. "I'll deal with HQ when I get back. Just bypass the red tape and assign me Anubis. This is urgent." He listened again.

"Four hours? Can't you make it shorter?" He looked visibly deflated. "Fine. Just make it as fast as possible." He hung up.

"Anubis? Isn't that the new model? Wouldn't the Sehkmet or Seth models be better for this? They do have superior firepower." Garret turned round with a small smile.

"Reiley, you need to learn to play with the toys at your disposal. Anubis is the new test model and requires a field test before being sanctioned. Plus he also happens to be the most advanced model, genetically speaking. Why not give him a chance to prove himself?"

"Why not indeed, sir." Reiley agreed, although still looking uncomfortable.

* * *

Yamaki ran through the emergency tunnel toward the train when Marie and the survivors rounded the corner. 

"Hey! It's Yamaki!" Everyone crowded him, congratulating him and slapping his back. Only Marie hung back, cautiously looking behind him, as if searching for someone.

"Alright everyone. Get to the train, I'll catch up in a minute." He handed Daniel to Claire.

"Keep him safe. Make sure he gets on the train." Claire nodded, handed the case she was carrying to a guard and moved off along with the others in the direction of the train. Finally only him and Marie remained.

"So you did it, huh? Wasn't there any other way?" Marie folded her arms.

"His condition was barely above tolerance levels. I couldn't have him move on his own. He would only slow us down. Besides, he's a loose cannon. I couldn't be sure he wouldn't go berserk when he found out he hadn't been treated completely." Marie nodded, but still looked apprehensive.

"What if he wakes up inside Daniel? How do you think it will affect them both?" Yamaki shook his head.

"We don't have time for this. I had to make a decision on the spot. There's nothing we can do now except hope they live." Marie glanced at Yamaki's shoulder.

"You're bleeding." She moved over and examined the wound.

"How many survivors?" Yamaki asked, ignoring the wound. She took off her lab coat and a pair of small scissors in the chest pocket.

"Not many. A dozen give or take," she began slicing a strip from her coat, "They wiped out everyone they could find. Butchered everyone, armed or not. I doubt many more than this made it." Yamaki thought about Michelle. He hoped she was okay.

Marie wrapped the strip around his shoulder, drawing it tight. He winced and gritted his teeth at the pain, but the bleeding slowed down.

"Thanks, Marie." And they moved toward the train and their escape.

* * *

"Hey! Who's that?" A soldier on guard duty outside pointed at an APC rolling out from the parking garage. 

"It's one of ours," said another. The APC was driving very fast, its powerful engine roaring. It was powering its way toward the chain-link fence around the facility, spewing up a cloud of dust behind it.

"That's not ours! Someone stop it!" The soldiers all started firing at the vehicle, rolling at the fence like an enraged rhino. The bullets glanced off the armour, but it didn't slow it down.

"You! Get that LAW! Stop the bastards!" One of the men had a large tube attached to his back. He knelt down and swung it down, resting it on his shoulder. He lined the APC up with the pathfinder attached to the side. He pressed the firing button. With a soft _whoosh_ the projectile shot from the barrel and hurtled toward the APC. It impacted, spewing a cloud of dust and dirt. The soldiers cheered and pumped their fists in the air.

The ruined APC skidded forward, tearing through the fence and ripping a huge section of it down. The burning wreck skidded in a circle, spinning helplessly before tipping over and coming to a rest, upside down, a few feet outside the fence.

"That'll teach the bastards!" one soldier whooped.

As if from nowhere, a group of three cars suddenly screeched from the garage. They screamed along the dirt road toward the ruined fence. Before any soldiers could react, they were past the fence, around the burning APC wreckage and out into the desert.

* * *

Four hours later:

The UH60 Blackhawk had a team of scientists in the seating compartment. The helicopter had had the troop seats stripped out and replaced with swivel seats secured to the floor. Advanced monitoring equipment was attached to the walls and the scientists were busily typing away on the computers. The pilot spoke into his radio.

"This is Foxtrot two-zero-niner. The cargo is on ice and ready for delivery."

The helicopter had a large cylindrical metal object attached to its underside. The cylinder was absurdly huge and it was a wonder the Blackhawk could fly with the giant thing attached.

"Sir, it's here." Garret walked out to the helipad, his eyes turned upwards to the helicopter, his sunglasses shielding his eyes from the sand being blasted everywhere.

The helicopter suddenly released the cylinder. It sailed neatly to the ground and landed with a huge thump, shaking the ground.

"Sergeant," Garret motioned to the soldier next to him.

"Sir." The man barked and stepped forward.

"Have some men use whatever they need to use to move this… Device…inside." The Sergeant nodded.

"Yes sir. Alright, ladies, you heard the man. Armstrong, get on it!" Garret stood with his hands clasped behind his back, watching them move the large canister inside the facility.

"This could be interesting."

* * *

Inside the parking lot, Garret dismissed the soldiers. Only he and Reiley remained, staring up at the massive container. 

"Here goes." Said Reiley. He reached out to a keypad on the side of the huge container. He tapped in a code. There was a loud beep and a red light flicked on near the keypad. There was a loud hiss as jets of steam erupted from the underside. A split suddenly appeared down the centre and Reiley leapt back.

The canister split into two halves and the metal covering fell apart. Inside was a clear Perspex canister. It was exuding a thin mist that obscured the contents. The Perspex was covered in a sheet of icy slush. Garret stepped up to the container and brushed some of the slush away leaving an arc of clear plastic to peer through. He leaned close to see the contents, but there was a sky-blue liquid within, which was too thick to see through.

"Careful sir. Prelim reports say it's a little twitchy."

Garret pressed a button on the base of the canister that revealed another keypad. He typed in a new code. This time there was a loud klaxon sound. Garret stepped back.

"Keep clear." He warned Reiley. The liquid within the canister began gurgling out from the base, spewing out over the tarmac. As the liquid poured over the tarmac, the ground froze. It was liquid nitrogen. It touched the tyres of cars nearby which suddenly burst and the cars jumped slightly as their tyres suddenly released the air within.

Once the container was drained, Reiley gazed with shock at the frozen ground inches in front of them.

"Isn't that dangerous!?" he cried, shocked at thinking what would have happened if Garret had not already known what the liquid was.

"It was not designed for manual activation. It was designed to be remotely activated, then dropped from the air. The Avatar would then deploy. The containers have a manual option as well, for emergencies or unexpected situations." A sheet of ice surrounded the drained canister. The Perspex began to slide apart, splitting into two and moving apart. It then moved downwards and swung at an angle, pointing the two sides upwards and away from the contents.

The thing inside was roughly humanoid in shape. It stood on two legs and was covered in silvery scales. Its head was reptilian, with slit-like eyes. The head had a series of spikes growing from the back of its head, like miniature horns. Its body was very powerful indeed, with muscles rippling beneath the surface of the silver skin. Its chest, from chin down to its crotch was a light brown. It had a long tail that was curled around its body. It also had a series of strange cybernetic implants. It was curled up, frozen by the nitrogen. Garrets' eyes widened. He had no idea it was modeled after a dragon. Turcotte was certainly an artist.

Anubis was quite magnificent, he decided. He wondered how to awaken it from its icy prison. Then, it awakened itself. The ice began shuddering. Garret and Reiley retreated behind a car just as the ice exploded in a hail of razor sharp shards. Reiley and Garret cautiously peered over the riddled car.

Anubis straightened up, flexing his powerful body. Now he was free of ice, it was possible to see the various cybernetic implants in his body. Attached to his left and right arms were thick gauntlet-like devices. From these devices, cables curved outwards and were rooted into the Avatars' arm, flowing into the skin like veins. Attached to the side of his face was a strange, indiscernible device that emitted a soft red light.

It fixed its fierce gaze upon them and turned to face them. Its tail flowed dangerously behind it.

"Is… _that_ Anubis?" Garret was pleased by the awe in Reileys' voice.

"Indeed. Isn't it magnificent? Genetically superior in every way. Capable of reaching level three in eighteen seconds. It outstrips every other model in terms of capacity."

"Except _him_, of course." Reiley said. Garret nodded.

"Of course." Garret approached the Avatar but Reiley held back slightly.

"Anubis," Garret commanded, "I am your Garret, your Controller. Comply." He said in a loud, firm voice.

Coding accepted. Mission parameters requested.

A very deep monotone voice synthesizer spoke out. The Avatars' mouth never moved. Garret couldn't suppress a gleeful smile. Like a child playing with a new toy. He felt the impulse to test his new plaything.

"Come closer." With a heavy step, Anubis stomped closer. Each step his massive dinosaur-like feet took, the ice cracked and shattered beneath. As he passed beneath one of the strip lights in the ceiling, what looked like ribbon-like lines seemed to appear over his skin. They were a slightly darker shade than the skin around them, making it look like oddly artistic scars. Anubis stood inches from Garret, glaring down upon him. Garret stood staring up, a wide grin on his face.

"Sir, remember. This one has a limited capacity. Only as long as the drugs last. We should hurry." Reiley reminded him. Garret glanced up at the Avatars' face. A thick tube ran from the facial implant into his neck. A clear liquid was being pumped into his neck.

"Very well," he said in an almost petulant tone. "Anubis."

Controller Garret. State mission.

"Your mission is to penetrate this facility and reach the level five lab. There are a series of blast doors extremely resistant to damage blocking the way. Destroy them, then report back to this location."

Orders received.

Anubis turned round and stomped slowly toward the tunnel entrance which led further into the facility. Garret watched, with awed fascination as the Avatar simply walked straight through the security barrier without pausing.

"Remind me to commend Turcotte for his outstanding efforts."

* * *

On the emergency train, Yamaki and the surviving members were huddled onto the uncomfortable seats. It was brightly lit and relatively warm, but the survivors were badly shaken as the events of the past few hours sunk in. 

Daniel had been given some clothes that had been lying in a crate. An emergency supply of clothes, food and water and other supplies had been included inside the train's cargo car. Although the clothes were meant for an adult, and were slightly too big, he didn't complain. He was awake now, and shivering. His senses were numb. He couldn't quite make sense of everything that was happening. But Yamaki assured him over and over that he was fine, he was safe and was going home. Home. That one word filled Daniel's heart with hope. He still believed he was in some sort of weird dream, but that didn't take away the appeal of getting home.

A woman was sitting beside him, one arm around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. He wasn't sure, but it seemed as though she was crying. A Japanese man was sitting on his opposite side, his arm around the woman. He seemed to be comforting her as she comforted Daniel.

All in all, Daniel was very confused. But despite the absurdity of his position, he began to feel drowsy. Soon he fell asleep.

* * *

Most of the soldiers within the facility were evacuated. Reiley had insisted to Garret that they ensure witnesses were kept to a minimum. The Avatars were secret, after all. 

Anubis arrived in the Level five Lab elevator shaft. He scrutinized the huge doors sealing the shaft. His eyes began to glow a dull red. He crossed his arms across his chest and tensed his body.

Limiter Release activated. Level four Latency approved.

The 'scar' lines around Anubis' body began to glow. A neon blue light filtered through the lines as though it were a liquid coursing through them. A bright haze appeared around him, like a heat distortion. The lines on his body glowed brighter and brighter. He growled and trembled, his muscles rigid. The large containers around the room started shuddering, sliding away from him like magnetic poles repelling each other. Pieces of debris from the blasted roof rose from the ground and hovered a few feet in the air.

Then the haze began to fade, but the lines around his body continued to glow. He walked to the edge of the shaft, where the two sides of the shutter met. He aimed his gauntlets at the door, a new haze appearing in his outstretched hands.

Commencing operation.

Before him, the haze extended and covered the shutters. The doors creaked and groaned at some unseen strain. Very slowly, the square teeth began to creak outwards, as though being forced upwards from beneath. Anubis grunted and strained, forcing the shutter to peel upwards. With one almighty wrench, he forced the doors apart and they peeled backwards on themselves, like paper curling in a fire. Anubis stood, breathing hard. Then he stepped to the edge and aimed at the next door, some hundred or so meters below.

* * *

Outside the facility, Garret and Reiley waited for the Avatar to complete his task. Garret sat in a seat, chewing his nail. He hoped beyond hope that Yamaki had not managed to evacuate the subjects. He needed them as much as the facility and the apparatus itself. 

Reiley stood among the scientist crew that had arrived with the cargo. One of them pointed to her monitor.

"Sir, Anubis is sending the confirmation signal." Reiley leaned over and inspected the screen.

"Sir, the doors are open. We can move in." Garret stood so quickly the chair beneath him was propelled backwards.

"Lets go."

* * *

Back beneath the facility, Anubis was nowhere to be seen. Garret had the scientists perform recovery of the Avatar while he and Reiley went below with a detachment of soldiers. 

When the men arrived at the forced shutters, a chorus of awed gasps and surprised whistles went up among the soldiers. They couldn't believe anything was capable of this kind of feat.

Garret addressed the soldiers.

"Everyone, listen up," he called over the tumult, "This is strictly classified. Anything you see here is considered security level red. Anyone discovered breaking the secrecy rule will die. Make no mistake about that." All the soldiers were instantly silent.

"Sergeant, if you please." Under the Sergeants' instruction, the soldiers began rappelling down the shaft. It took them almost half an hour to reach the bottom and Garret was becoming impatient. Finally, the radio crackled to life.

"Sir, we have reached the Lab. The door is already open, sir." Garret clutched the radio tightly.

"And the subjects?" He dreaded the response.

"Gone, sir. Both tubes are empty." Garret cursed. He rounded on Reiley, who took a step back in fright.

"Get division four on the line! I want those two hunted down and brought back! Alive! Do it now!" he snarled. Reiley didn't hang about. Garret, his eyes blazing behind his shades, stared with barely contained frustration down the shaft.

"Damn you to Hell, Yamaki!"

* * *

Note: if you want an accurate picture of the Anubis Avatar, just think of Bahamut from Final Fantasy 7. Bahamuts' appearance inspired Anubis' appearance. Just imagine him smaller, no wings more humanoid in stature and with silver scales and you've got him.


	5. Dealing With These Changes

Note: After revising the previous chapters, I've decided to try to pay more attention to the Scottish dialect. It's strange that I've lived in Scotland my entire life (almost) and I still retain my somewhat English accent. Still, I've decided to make an effort to pay more attention to the details.

* * *

Chapter 5: Dealing With These Changes

When Daniel opened his eyes, he knew straight away that he was in hospital. Having spent a great deal of his life inside one hospital or another. He felt weak all over, his vision swam, his muscles ached terribly and his head pounded abominably.

Beeping softly next to him was a life-support machine. An IV drip led to the crook of his left arm. Standing with his back to him was a doctor. He was drawing a clear liquid into a syringe. He lifted the needle and tested it by squirting a few drips from the tip. When he turned and saw Daniel watching, he jumped slightly.

"Oh! I didn't know you were awake." An American accent. "Daniel? Can you respond?"

Daniel tried to speak, but he was too weak. He just wanted to close his eyes again. He could barely move, let alone speak.

The doctor was a middle-aged man, a bald patch on his scalp, surrounded by black hair with slight grey. He had a firm but kind face and was wearing narrow-framed spectacles.

The doctor bent low and inspected his eyes, peering into his irises. Behind him, a nurse walked in.

"Doctor? Here's the drugs you wanted." Daniel noticed she had an American accent too. Why was he in America? How did he get here? He suddenly felt lonely. He felt far from home. He thought he was going home. That was what that Japanese man had told him. He tried to sit up, but his muscles refused to obey.

"Lie still, Daniel." The doctor turned to the nurse. "Thank you Sarah. Could you take his pulse while I do this?" The nurse nodded and moved to Daniel's right side and felt the pulse in his wrist while the doctor inserted the needle into the IV tube. Daniel closed his eyes again. What was wrong with him? He hadn't felt like this when he had last been awake. His body was in torment and his mind was lost and confused.

"Rapid and weak."

"We'll keep him in observation for now. I believe he'll be picked up later today."

"Picked up?"

"Yes, he's Scottish. He's here temporarily." The doctor stood and checked his watch. "Alright Liz, you can go for now." The nurse excused herself and left, taking the leftover syringes with her.

"You'll be fine, kid." Said the doctor. He rested his hand on Daniel's forehead. "You just rest now and you'll be home before you know it."

"How… How…" he croaked, unable to make any more sounds.

"How did you get here?" The doctor finished helpfully. Daniel nodded, making his vision swim even more. "You were dropped off by a friend yesterday morning. He said he was on a very urgent business and couldn't stay, but he gave me your family's number. I believe your parents are already on the flight over here to get you."

Daniel felt a strange feeling of detachedness from his body. He felt blessed relief of the ache in his muscles and his splitting headache. He felt his consciousness slip away, plunging him into the soothing embrace of sleep.

* * *

Reiley was perched nervously on a comfy leather seat in Garret's office. His boss was in conference now with the 'Circle'.

Reiley knew beyond doubt what they wanted Garret for. And he knew that he would be in a foul mood when he got back. Garret was as much a friend as a boss, but he could be very intimidating when he was riled.

He poured himself a glass of whisky from the glass pitcher on the table. He added two ice cubes and gulped it, savoring the powerful spirits. He placed the glass down and rested his slightly trembling hands on his knees.

The Circle was not pleased.

They had expected, and indeed had been assured they would gain the DGDR facility in spotless condition, both human and Digital subjects unharmed and no witnesses to possibly jeopardize the operation. Instead they had a battle-torn facility, many of the drives wiped clean and both subjects had escaped along with a good deal of staff, including the administrators and especially Yamaki.

The Department of Genetic and Digital Research (DGDR) had been mostly tricked and fooled into believing terrorist deviants fighting against genetic technology had attacked the facility. Some of the more shrewd DGDR executives had suspected something was amiss, but as yet it seemed that DARRC Information Management (professional liars as Garret called them) had successfully quashed any attempts to investigate.

Reiley sighed. Garret was the newest member of the Circle, and the youngest too (Though he was forty five) yet he had been reprimanded for his 'unorthodox' methods more times than the other seven members put together.

He jumped out of the seat when the door was flung open, crashing against the walls. Garret stormed in, slamming the door behind him. It was clear Garret was enraged.

"Goddamn those fools! The stupid, blind fools!" He gave a growl of frustration. He stalked over to the desk, slamming his fists onto it and gritting his teeth. Reiley wisely kept his distance and waited for Garret to calm down.

"How _dare_ they!? 'Unacceptable loss!?' 'Too brash!?' What would they know? All they do is sit and push pens all day! Bureaucrats, every one of them!" Garret moved around to the other side and sat in his own chair. He removed his sunglasses and buried his head in his hands. Reiley slowly approached the desk. He picked up the decanter and poured two glasses of whisky and slid one across the table to Garret.

"Here, sir." Garret looked up. His eyes had lost their fire and were more anxious than angry. He gratefully accepted the glass and raised it to Reiley who returned the gesture. They both drank, then Garret turned and walked to the large window behind him. He watched the comings and goings of the people down on the street.

The DARRC building was a massive skyscraper in the centre of New York. The building was very impressive, being of grey and black marble and stone at the base, giving an impression of a bank or corporate headquarters. As one looked up to the top, the building of black marble and refined grey stone changed to steel and glass, most of the windows from the centre up were tinted, as if illustrating their paranoia.

"Bureaucrats, Reiley." Said Garret, his voice returned to its calm and controlled state. "One of the great evils of democracy is the bureaucrats and bureaucracy. They insist on interfering, on controlling, stifling efficiency. They cannot accept my methods because they are simply unused to someone actually getting something done."

"Sir, what was their reaction to your requisitioning an Avatar without authority? And your request for D-4 to be brought into the search?" Reiley felt he needn't ask, but wanted confirmation, hoping it would also calm him down more.

"What do you think? "Insubordination", "impertinence", "presumptuousness", need I continue?" Reiley raised an eyebrow. He knew the Circle were prone to over-reaction, but that was a little harsh.

"But we got the facility, didn't we?" He ventured.

"What does that matter, so long as I didn't fill in all the forms and make all the appropriate phone calls? If I followed every guideline they imposed, we would still be waiting for them to give permission to begin the attack." He snapped scathingly. He poured another glass and filled Reileys glass too.

They sat in silence, drinking their whiskey. Then, Garret asked in a thoughtful tone:

"What did you think of Anubis?" Reiley put down his glass.

"It was a remarkable model. Extremely efficient and advanced. Turcotte really pulled out all the stops for that one." Garret nodded appreciatively. Reiley, of course, knew what Garret's real reason for asking was.

Garret was obsessed with dragons. He knew that DARRC had been issuing highly illegal contracts for the capture of "Dra-strain" Digital monsters. Flamedramon species, the elusive Devidramon species and even dangerous species such as the Cyberdramon. He knew these names because all of the above had been captured at some point by DARRC agents, or by contracted operatives. He wasn't too sure, but he had a disturbing feeling that Garret was somehow connected. Garret had certainly neglected to mention that Division Eight, his division, had been involved with the issuing of warrants for capture. He knew better than to accuse his boss, though. Friend or not, Garret would not take kindly to such an accusation.

"Anubis was certainly a masterpiece. But I believe he will soon be surpassed." Garret commented.

"Already? But he was only just officially commissioned. Turcotte can't be making a new model already."

"Not Division Six. Our Division. We are currently receiving assistance from Turcotte's people to develop our own Avatar technology." Garret poured another glass.

"Yamaki will be caught." He mused to himself, "And I have a special purpose for him. It's only fitting, after all. He made the largest advancements in the field."

"What purpose is that?"

Garret grinned malevolently. "Just wait and see."

* * *

Daniel drifted in and out of consciousness for a while. Occasionally he would recognize the inside of an ambulance, an airport, a plane. He knew he was being taken home, but he couldn't feel an excitement at the prospect. He was too tired, too exhausted to be excited.

The plane ride home passed by Daniel as he slipped in and out of consciousness. It was when he heard two distinct voices, voices he knew very well, that his heart leapt.

"Daniel? _Daniel!" _The face of his mother filled his view. Her eyes were filled with tears.

"Oh God, Daniel," she sobbed, "I thought I widnae see you again." She knelt by his side, holding his hand. His father seemed to appear as if from nowhere at his opposite side.

"A'right, son?" He said in a strained voice, trying in vain to withhold his tears. Daniel felt like crying too. He extended his arms and his parents hugged him. Home. He was home again.

* * *

Daniel drifted in and out of sleep that night. He had stopped off at Cross House Hospital for examination, but they discharged him, saying he was in perfect health. Despite the apparent clean bill of health, Daniel felt drained. He had no problems getting to sleep.

The buzzing in his head had mercifully calmed down. He felt so tired…

Daniel slowly opened his eyes. Above him, the velvet darkness lay around him. He felt a little better. But his mouth was painfully dry and he tried to lick his lips. He felt like lying back and sleeping, but he had to quench his thirst.

With a heavy sigh, he threw the covers back and spun his legs round and lay them on the floor. He rubbed his eyes. He couldn't remember how on Earth he had gotten here. The last memory he had was of being wheeled into Cross House. After that… Nothing.

He groaned, too lazy and tired to think any further. He got up, stretched and opened his door. The house was completely dark, so his parents must have gone to bed. Turning the corner, he walked into the cramped bathroom. He reached up and tugged the small shaving light switch above the mirror. His face was illuminated. He turned on the tap, picked up a glass from the sink and poured a glass of water. He put it to his lips, felt the cooling moisture revive him. He thought back to what had happened to him. He hadn't even known what was going on. All he knew was that he was being taken to a new facility. They hadn't even told him what was going to happen.

He lifted his shirt to gaze once more upon his scars. As soon as he laid eyes upon his chest, at first he simply searched harder, thinking the light was disguising them. Then his eyes slowly widened as he found that he could not see them at all. His heart gave an excited leap of joy.

No scars. He laid a hand on his chest. Beneath his trembling fingers, his heart beat steadily. No frightening flutters or faltering of the beat. He stood there, his hand resting there, desperately trying to feel the familiar extra-long pause between a beat here and there. A mad grin spread across his face, as he felt nothing but a firm and steady beat.

Ohhh… My head…

It was just as well he was cured, otherwise the shock alone would have probably laid him flat. He jumped, glancing around, eyes wide with fright.

"The Hell…!? Who's there?" he cried.

Eh? Just who is that? It wasn't a 'voice' as such, more of a thought inside his head. But this never occurred to him as he swirled around, trying to place the voice.

"Who's that!?" he glanced around, trying to find something solid to grab, "I swear, If you come near me, I'll batter utter f out of you!" he cried defiantly, trying to bolster his courage.

Damn… Where am I? Why is everything swirling around me? The 'voice' seemed more confused and annoyed than concerned at Daniel's threats. Daniel believed the voice was coming from just outside the bathroom. He looked down and saw a bottle of bleach next to the toilet.

Great, he thought. A drunken burglar in the house and all I've got is a bottle of Domestos.

The Hell? What's that bottle thing in front of me? And whose arms are those?

"Oh aye, you just stand there." He said threateningly, "Or I'll give you a dose of this stuff in your eyes!"

Kid, I don't know who you are. And I don't care. The voice growled, _Shut up and tell me what the Hell is going on here. And where the Hell are you anyway?_

Daniel slowly lowered the bottle. A dream. Or a hallucination. Maybe he was still dying in a hospital bed. Feeling depressed, he simply dropped the bottle and trudged back to his room. And he had felt so _hopeful_ as well.

Hey! Hey! Back up! What was that on the wall?

And a surly voice in his head too. What next?

"It's Vritramon." He said, feeling he should humor it, "My favorite Digimon."

What? Let me see.

Daniel obediently walked over to the poster. He flicked the light switch. He was staring up at a poster of Vritramon standing on a stone platform, arms and legs spread as though preparing to fight. His burning wings were spread behind him. It was Daniels' favorite. He admired his strength and his appearance.

Wow, commented the voice, _looks almost as cool as the real me. But why would you have a poster of me in your room?_

"'Real me?'" Daniel was now thoroughly convinced he was dreaming, so the fact he was speaking to himself held little significance.

That would be me. Speaking of which, who exactly are you, kid?

"Daniel. Are you telling me there's a Vritramon living in ma heid?"

'A' Vritramon? Kid, I AM Vritramon. I'm one of a kind. Daniel almost laughed. They stood in silence for a few moments.

Kid?

"Aye."

Go to the mirror. Daniel obeyed, only slightly worried that he was taking instructions from voices in his head. 'Crazy' and 'Nuts' sprang to mind. He walked over to a full-size mirror standing by the window.

Daniel looked into his reflection with real interest for the first time in almost four months. It was the same face. His face was a little on the narrow side, a feature that his friends told him made him look a little older than his meager fourteen years. A tangle of unruly brown hair sat on his head, like a disheveled hedgehog, unbrushed for a few months. Eyes of pale blue-grey stared back at him, slightly glazed from his interrupted sleep. Nothing really new.

This isn't happening.

"What you goin' on about?"

I. Am. In. A. Human. Vritramon said, mostly to himself.

"Aye, you're quick." Daniel said, wanting to wake up from this bizarre dream, "So what?"

A HUMAN!? the voice roared. Daniel recoiled and covered his ears, not that it helped.

"You tryin' to deafen me!? Be quiet!"

I, the mighty Vritramon, am trapped within the pathetic frame of a HUMAN!?

"Oi!" he said, feeling insulted, "What's that all about?"

This isn't happening… Those… Bastards! They told me they would cure me! And now just look where I am! Daniel would have found the whining tone in his voice quite amusing. Instead, he was quite ruffled.

"Aye, well, you're no' such a good looker yersel'." He said grumpily.

LOOKS!? Daniel again flinched and covered his ears, _You think I care about LOOKS!? You're a human! A sneaky, weak-minded, greedy little…_

"Shut it!" Daniel shouted. He clamped a hand over his mouth, realising his parents were still asleep across the hall.

"The f is your problem? Why d'you no' like me? What've I done to you to make ye' such an arsehole?"

A what? What did you call me?

"An. Arse. Hole. Gettit?" he exulted in his unique position over 'Vritramon'.

If I could just wrap my hands around your scrawny little neck, boy…

"Aye, well, ye can't. You're in me. Nothing you can do about it. So shut it. I'm going back to bed, now." With a haughty smirk, he stomped over to his bed, flung himself under his covers and pulled them up. He shut his eyes. Hopefully, he would wake up any moment…

* * *

The next morning, Daniel awoke with a pale light filtering through the curtains. He groaned and pulled the covers back up over his head.

Only he didn't feel tired. He opened his eyes again and sat up.

He felt _weird_.

Throwing back the covers, he stood and crossed the room to where the mirror stood. He looked at his reflection. His reflection looked back.

Nothing big. He stood there, slight bags under his eyes, but otherwise just him.

He laughed as he remembered his dream the previous night. But his laughter died quickly when he remembered his chest. With mute sadness, he lifted his shirt. His heart leapt.

The scars were still gone. His heart still beat strongly beneath his ribs. But he noticed something new as well.

His abdomen was slightly trimmer. And his abdominal muscles had bulged out slightly. He raised an eyebrow of surprise as he tapped his slightly firmer muscles. He examined his arms too. Notoriously skinny (as far as he knew, he was the only person who needed an extra hole in watchstraps to fit his tiny wrists), his arms had filled out slightly. Again, nothing big, but there was a definite bulge to his upper arm. And his wrist wasn't so skinny any more.

Daniel felt a smile creep across his face. Was this a side effect of whatever treatment he had been through? If so, lock me up for another year, he decided gleefully.

There was a faint tap on the door.

"Daniel?" Daniel dropped his shirt. It was his mother's voice. "Daniel, are you asleep?" The door opened a crack.

"No, I'm up." There was a stifled cry from behind the door. The door opened fully and his mother stood in the threshold. Daniel's faced dropped.

She looked awful. Heavy bags under her eyes and frayed, unkempt hair suggested a great deal of stress. Her skin, once a fair pinkish was now chalky white. Her appearance was quite disheveled, with her nightclothes creased and wrinkled. She looked as though she had aged a few years.

"Daniel?" She said softly, surprised that he was out of bed. "Are you alright?"

"Aye." Said Daniel, "In fact I feel great!" He couldn't suppress a smile. His mother looked shocked.

"But… You were only back last night… You sure you're okay?"

"I'm okay, mom." He grinned, "But could ah get a fry-up, please?" His mother's eyes widened. She walked into the room and pressed a hand to his forehead.

"Mom!" he protested.

"Are you sure? Maybe you should rest…"

"I'm fine! I'm _hungry._"

"Your heart! Daniel, what about your heart?" She gripped his hands tightly between hers. Daniel pulled a hand out of her grasp and lifted his shirt. She gazed at where the scars should have been. He grinned wider.

"Cured, mom." She hugged him tightly and they clung together. Louise Higgins smiled for the first time in a long time. A sparkle re ignited behind her eyes.

"I'll make you a nice fry-up." She left the room, a little more energy in her step. Daniel turned back to the mirror, glanced once more at the vanished scars. Aside from his slightly improved appearance, he felt something else that was different.

A new energy welled up within him. An energetic charge that he had never felt before. It was like a wave of euphoria. With a grin, he said:

"Never better."

* * *

Daniel noticed that he attracted a lot of stares on the bus. Probably from those who vaguely recognized him or those who thought he was a new arrival. But he didn't care. All he could think about was his newfound energy and vitality. He couldn't _wait_ to see Nicole.

He had been hard pressed to get his parents to agree to let him go on his first day back to Scotland in the three and a half months he had been gone. It had taken effort, but he had eventually persuaded them to allow him to catch the bus. The conductress, an elderly woman whom he knew quite well, was pleasantly surprised.

"Danny! Where' you bin? It's bin months since ah seen you. Heard you had a heart attack or sumthin'."

"I'm fine." He said with a grin, "Cured now, so ah am." The conductress smiled back.

"Well good for you, Danny."

During the bus ride, he felt restless. He had some kind of energy he was itching to burn. He suspected the 'treatment' he had apparently been through was responsible. Not that it bothered him, of course. If this was the side effect, then give him Forstners' Disease ten times over!

He bounded off the bus eagerly, attracting disapproving glares from grumpy faces around him. He knew precisely who he was looking for. He wandered about the gates, hoping he hadn't missed her. Then she showed up, and Daniel's heart fell.

Nicole looked miserable. She scuffed her feet along the ground, her eyes at her feet and her skin a startlingly pale white. Nicole seemed very sickly and thin in comparison to the energetic and sharp-tongued girl he knew. If she hadn't been wearing her familiar black jeans and midriff-revealing tank top he may not have noticed her.

"Nic?" he called plaintively. Without even looking up, she stalked past him.

"Whit?" she snapped.

"Nic? It's me." She stopped dead in her tracks, mid step. Very slowly, she raised her head and turned to face him.

"It's not you." She said as matter-of-factly, "You're gone."

"Aye, so ah am." He said, rolling his eyes, tired of the stares as if he were dead, "And you're talking to a ghost. Look; I'm solid, really." He reached out with his hands. She didn't take them, but her eyes locked with his, as though trying to see the mind behind them. Then, ever so slowly, a smile creased her thin lips.

"Danny?" she took a few steps forward.

"It's good to see you again, Nic." It was clear to him she was trying her utmost not to cry. She had a reputation to uphold, so he spared her a teary reunion.

"So… How d'you feel?" she said in a small voice.

"Seriously, I feel fantastic!" he said, placing a hand over his heart. "Ah feel like an athlete! And mah heart works fine! No more Forstners' for me!" He marveled at his own newfound strength.

"Really!? You're cured?" abandoning all pretence, she moved toward him and held his shoulders. "That's great! Ah mean…" She quickly withdrew her hands, noticing the stares they were attracting, "It's great you're gonnae be okay." A new spark of energy appeared behind her eyes, just like his mother's had. Daniel felt a new surge of euphoria. They walked side-by-side toward the school.

Don't get over-excited, lover boy, said a bad tempered voice. Daniel stopped walking and stood rooted to the spot, startling Nicole.

"What's up?" she said, sounding concerned.

"Oh… Nothing." He said, shaking his head vigorously.

Stop that. You're making me dizzy. Vritramon's voice sounded grouchy and half-asleep. God, please say I'm hallucinating, Daniel pleaded.

I **so** wish I was hallucinating. Growled Vritramon's voice, _And I thought that was all just a hideous nightmare. Damn!_

In the distance, the bell rang to signal the first class. Nicole turned to him and hit his shoulder affectionately.

"Got English first. See you at interval, 'right?" Daniel nodded and tried a smile, but was too shocked by the fact that Vritramon was all too real. She ran off toward the building.

"_Now_ what do you want?" he whined.

What do you think? To get out of this body. Daniel realised his first class was Craft and Design and began walking toward the rear of the school.

"Listen," said Daniel, trying to keep calm, "Do me a favour. Don't _say_ anything while Ah'm in class. You're just gonnae get me in bother. Please?" Daniel tried pleading.

You presume to tell **me** what to do? If I feel like talking, I'll damn well talk all I like human.

Daniel assumed he meant no.

* * *

Daniel had received a warm welcome in his first class. His teacher, a thin man in his sixties with grey hair called Mr. Kay, had given him a warm handshake and congratulated him on his recovery. His classmates were quite welcoming too, which came as a surprise as they usually didn't bother with him.

Everyone else was at least three months ahead of him in their projects and a jumble of mostly finished tables, chairs and various other pupil-made projects sat by in the corner of the room. His own project -a desk- was a sad jumble of partly assembled wood and metal. The teacher had promised to make an appeal on the practical part, so he only had to worry about finishing his project's design folio and the final exam.

Every once in a while, Vritramon would make nasty comments about his classmates, the room, human appearance, human attitudes, human frailties, human… well, just about anything that could be complained about, he complained about. Daniel was beginning to find his bitching quite tiresome. _Why_ did he disapprove of humans so much? Did he have a problem with Daniel, or with himself? Whatever it was, he had the worst attitude Daniel had ever known. Even more obnoxious than some of the younger pupils (They had a reputation for their inexplicable nastiness toward anyone and everyone they didn't know and even to those they did), he found that Vritramon could be incredibly petty. He picked up on such measly shortcomings, like 'who did that to _his_ face?' or 'I wonder if she needs a permit to leave her home?'

Despite Vritramon's constant moaning, he found the period went quite quickly, and he was on his way to modern studies. He was walking down the school's main corridor when he heard the drawling voice call out from behind.

"Ho, ya dobber"

Daniel closed his eyes. He knew who that was. He decided to ignore it, but was quickly caught from behind by a firm grip.

"No you don't." He was held until everyone else had passed by and they were alone.

"Thought you'd died, Higgins." It was Brian. But you're just as much a gay boy as you were before. Thought you'd seen the last of me?"

What is that **thing** doing touching me? Said Vritramon. Daniel was so taken aback by Vritramon's calm insult that he laughed.

"Did you just fing laugh at me, prick!? I'll smash you!" He pulled Daniel by the shirt and slammed him against the wall, his face close to Daniel's. Strangely, Daniel didn't feel the familiar rush of leg-melting fear through his veins, the heart-faltering surge of ice in his chest. Instead he felt… different.

Is this guy really pushing you around? Said Vritramon mockingly, _That's low, even for you, boy._

Daniel felt his blood boil. It was bad enough Brian, a no-brainer with more strength than brain cells could do as he pleased with him, but now Vritramon, the one who he thought was his hero was mocking him for it.

"Get off, Brian." He said in a voice of forced calm. Brian gave a laugh like a drain clearing.

"What did you just say?" From within him, Daniel felt an uncontrollable rush of power.

"I said, _get off_." As he said 'get off', a new voice emerged from his mouth at the same time. Like two people speaking in unison. Brian was surprised and his eyes showed it. Taking advantage of his opponents' momentary weakness, Daniel grabbed Brian's wrist and yanked his grip free. Surprisingly, Brian's grip was not as firm as he thought and he easily pulled himself free.

"What you doin'?" Brian protested in surprise. Daniel felt a rising well of anger rising within him, a suppressed anger he held inside each time Brian intimidated him.

Yes… Vritramon said, relishing every moment, **_That's_** what I want to see. Pummel the brainless oaf's empty skull. Don't deny that feeling, boy.

Daniel felt the strength he had sensed inside him the night before welling up again, only this time it brought something more; violent, angry images of carnage. He wanted to _hurt _Brian. Not just hit him, but batter his stupid arrogant face and break his bones.

"Hoi! You two! What's going on here?"

The PE teacher just walked out of his office. Brian cursed and stalked away, the way he had come.

"Ah'll see you efter school, dick." The PE teacher came toward Daniel and glanced after Brian.

"What was that about?" he asked Daniel. Daniel didn't answer. He was trembling with the aftershock of the emotions he had felt. Utter rage, unbridled violence, lust for pain. All these and many more had torn apart Daniel's normally gentle persona. But the worst thing was, he had _enjoyed _it. He had _wanted _those emotions. He was intoxicated by the raw power of he had experienced, and he wanted to feel it again.

Yessss… Said Vritramon, basking in Daniel's fury, _Maybe there's hope for you yet, boy._

* * *

Dobber is a derogative term. Trust me on this.

Sorry if some bits of dialogue are hard to understand. I'll try to ensure I don't become too caught up in it. Some bits of dialogue may seem misspelt, but chances are I'm putting it down as it might sound literally.


	6. Letting Go

Chapter 6: Letting Go

Daniel stood against the wall, trembling slightly, trying to quell the surge of energy he had experienced. It had passed very quickly, leaving him breathless and dizzy.

"Are you alright?" His PE teacher bent down to look him in the eye. He gave a suspicious glance up the corridor, at Brian's retreating back. "Was that lad gein' you hassle?"

Daniel shook his head. He felt somehow loathed to tell. This was something he would deal with himself.

"Naw, sir. I'm fine. He was just being an arsehole, that's all." His PE teacher didn't look convinced, but he straightened up.

"Aye, well, if he gies you any more hassle, you let a teacher know, okay?" Daniel nodded an affirmative.

_Interfering human... _Growled Vritramon, almost in a whine, as though denied a treat, _Someday, kid, you'll feel that again. And when you do, there won't be anyone who will stop you. _His tone took on an almost proud note. _Maybe you're not as weak as I thought you were._

Daniel was still recovering from the rush, his heart still pounding. Despite the almost frightening consequences, he felt... Drunk.

The power he had felt was an intoxicating blend of fearlessness and fury. His was a fury that could not be denied or questioned because it was deserving of release. He was being _wronged. _And he was _angry._ He had _every right _to pound Brian. Why should he restrain himself? Why?

Catching his breath, he suddenly felt a cold inrush of what he had felt prior his odd experience. Fear and guilt quenched the burning flame of his righteous fury. He suddenly felt so low he wanted to weep. He _was _a punching bag. And no amount of shouting back or unexpected attacks of stupidity would change that.

Close to tears, he grabbed his bag, hoisted it over his shoulder and ran in the opposite direction of his class, toward the school gates.

* * *

Anubis stood erect within a thick reinforced tube filled with liquid nitrogen, its eyes closed, as though in peaceful sleep. The chamber was fairly large, bathed in a clean white glow, glancing off the polished surfaces, but seemingly absorbed by the black rubberised floor. A floor designed for both safety and silence; one could drop a glass chandelier upon this floor and it would absorb at least half the noise. Technicians in orange work suits were working consoles around its icy chamber, maintaining almost complete silence as they worked, using signs to signal each other. The monitors gave various status reports, a few gave off gentle beeps.

Through a large Lucite barrier, two men stood on the opposite side. One was a man in an impeccably well kept black suit with tie. He had a binder under his arm. A name badge pinned to his chest. Upon it was the name C. Reiley. The other man was an elderly man with greying hair which was wild and thrown about, as though he had never bother (or had time) for grooming. He wore a long lab coat that almost brushed the floor, a set of pens in a chest pocket and a small palmtop in his hands as he examined the reports on screen. He too had a nametag: R. Turcotte.

The man named Turcotte had an aged face, lined with his many years of age, but sharp eyes and an alert countenance suggested a shrewd mind. He held his handheld PDA in one hand, reading the reports on it, and chewing the side of his index finger as he read, a habit he had when tense or pensive and had resulted in a coarse callous on his finger.

The other man, Reiley, was waiting patiently for him to finish his reading. To him, it was somewhat fascinating to examine the myriad of expressions passing over Turcotte's elderly face. Sometimes his eyebrows would arch in apparent surprise, other times they would dive together, his eyes narrowed and mouth slightly open as if wondering what on Earth he was reading. The impression he got in general, though, was not good.

"Is Garret really serious?" He said finally.

"Can it be done?" Reiley asked. Turcotte looked up into Reiley's grey eyes, as though checking whether he was joking.

"This procedure breaks almost every scientific and ethical rule in science! Not to mention a few laws, national and international!" He protested.

"Mr Turcotte, please." Reiley said, raising his hands placatingly, "Do not get so excited."

"_Excited?_" Turcotte shrilled, sounding almost insulted.

"Can you or can you not perform the procedures detailed?" Reiley insisted. Turcotte glanced back at his PDA and scrolled the contents.

"This... Would require a live human subject. Were on Earth are you going to find a volunteer?"

"You let us worry about that. _Can you do it?_" Reiley snapped, his voice rising. Turcotte's anger abated and was replaced by fear. He was old, and his strength for handling these kinds of pressures had long since left him. With a tone of defeat, he replied,

"Yes, I suppose we could have some of the more loyal staff trained, persuaded. But they too will have their apprehensions."  
  
"Then I trust you to talk them round." Said Reiley, his eyes glinting with triumph.

"But a _human _subject? Is that really necessary?"

"Come now, Turcotte. You have used human tissues in the Avatars. A great deal of human DNA went into Anubis, I believe."

"Yes, _tissue. _And only for key parts of the brain and spinal cord structures. We are talking about surgically altering a human, on a physical level and genetic level, to... to _this..." _He waved the PDA with apparent disgust. Behind the glass, Anubis stirred in its sleep. It moved in a slow lazy motion, as though stirring from a deep sleep. The technicians in the chamber began moving away from the tank in alarm, but Anubis simply stopped moving and was in deep sleep again in moments. No sound could be heard through the Lucite window, but it was obvious a sigh of collective relief was passing through the chamber.

"Mr Garret complimented you on your choice of physical template for the Anubis model, Professor. I don't see why you cannot repeat and _improve_ your original design, only this time you will not only have all the files and technology salvaged from the DGDR, but a living human host to improve."

"But a _human _cannot be returned to their original form once the initial surgical procedures are complete. Adding structures like added strength, physical constitution and athletic abilities can only be reversed to a point, but even then it would be of benefit to the host. But _this_?" Reiley clucked his tongue in sympathy.

"Now, now, Professor. You and Mr Garret have been working together for a long time now. Fifteen years is a long time for friendship and trust to be nurtured. Surely you trust Mr Garret?"

Turcotte looked frustrated. "Yes, but he has recently been asking more and more outrageous things of me. Deploying Anubis while he was undergoing regeneration. Deleting Dra-strain specimens to salvage their data..."

"They are programs, nothing more." Interrupted Reiley.

"But sentient ones. _Conscious_ ones."

"No more conscious than a chess program."

"No, they are..." He caught himself before blurting out something. He realised the staff on the other side of the window were watching.

"Kindly control yourself, Professor." Reiley muttered under his breath. He pulled the Professor so they were standing with their backs to the window.

"What were you saying? They are alive? I beg to differ. They are nothing more than code. Code given physical form. Think of them as nothing more than advanced AI programs, because that is all they really are."  
  
"They have been officially recognised as life forms by the UN and almost every single authority in the world. They have emotions. We know that as _fact_. You cannot dismiss their feelings and thought as aberrations or acts of an AI playing the part."

"This is about _that _incident, isn't it?" Turcotte was silent, looking into the middle distance as though lost in thought. Reiley shook his head in exasperation, though discreetly.

"I do not wish to push you, but I will if I have to." He said finally, ducking his head close and lowering his voice, "Put that behind you. You have a job to do and a country to serve. The United States of America is looking to us to make their lives just a little bit better. In fact, the whole world is waiting. You need not be a patriot, but just a man with a conscience."

Turcotte didn't seem convinced, but he straightened up and coughed, dispelling his previous dejection.

"I will discuss the matter with my staff. Some may not be willing to participate after that... Fiasco with Sehkmet."

"Now that you mention staff..." said Reiley, seizing the opportunity, "I have a someone we transferred t your Division for her expertise." He handed him the binder from under his arm. Curious, Turcotte opened it and a photograph of the head and shoulders of a young woman, quite pretty and slender with a shock of black hair. She had quite pale skin, almost ghost-like. Her name read Y. Lewton.

"Yvette is quite a capable woman. I assure you she will be quite a worthwhile addition to your team."

"Wait, I haven't decided to take her on!"

"No need. She starts work in your department _today_."

"But you can't do that! My Division is under my jurisdiction! Not even Garret can impose things like that on me without my permission!"

"Would you prefer to take it up with him?" Turcotte glared into Reiley's eyes and knew he had won. Turcotte knew better than to argue with Garret.

"Fine," he said, dejectedly, snatching the file, "I'll bring her up to speed."

"Good man." Reiley stood up straight and turned toward the door at the end of the corridor. "Good day, Professor."

* * *

When Daniel got off his bus just down the street from his home, he was very nearly in tears. He couldn't explain it. He was sitting there, simmering underneath at the indignity of Brian's unprovoked violence against him, when he suddenly felt tears prickling his eyes. Before he knew it, he had been doing his utmost to stop the tears flowing. The last thing he needed was to be seen crying on a public bus, in front of everyone. Many on the bus were old women, perhaps they would have been sympathetic to his plight, but in his mind that only strengthened his resolve not to cry. It didn't help that most passengers, as well as the driver had been giving him odd looks. He was truanting after all, but no one said anything.

It had been a blessing to finally alight just a few yard from his home. He rushed up his drive, fumbled his keys and unlocked the door. He heard his mother call from the living room, but he didn't care. He ran straight upstairs, slammed his door shut and collapsed on the bed.

_Why are humans so emotional? _Vritramon said in a thoughtful voice, as though he were thinking to himself and unwittingly transmitting them, _Such a delicate thing. _He growled in displeasure and fell silent. Daniel ignored him. His tears were dying down, and he was grateful for that at least.

There was a knock on the door.

"Daniel?" His mother gently opened the door, "Son, what's wrong? How are you home so early?"

"I didna feel well, mum. I took a bus." He instantly regretted it, though. She came into the room and moved over to his bed and placed a hand on his forehead. He saw that horrified look in her face, knew he had frightened her.

"I mean I wisna well, but ma hearts okay, y' know?" She still looked worried and suggested she call a doctor. Daniel insisted he would be okay and to throw her off asked what was for dinner.

"Yorkie puds and chicken, your favourite." She smiled slightly, "Still got your appetite, eh?"

Daniel was tempted to say no, but nodded an affirmative. She stood and left the room, pausing only slightly to glance back, then she was gone. Daniel groaned and turned over, trying to calm the raging emotions inside him.

_This 'mom' of yours... _Asked Vritramon, _Who is she? Why do you just barge into her house and make yourself at home? And why would she care for you? _Daniel didn't like the emphasis on 'you'. He pulled a pillow over his head, apparently forgetting it was pointless.

"Aww, shut it. Ah'm tired. And stop talking. If somebody catches me talkin' tae mysel', they'll think I'm mad."

_You presume to tell ME when to talk? _Demanded Vritramon haughtily, _I'll talk when I feel like it, human. I was wrong. You are just as arrogant as the rest of your kind._

Too exhausted to take offence, he rolled over and curled up, trying to ignore Vritramon as he started grumbling on once again about humans, his predicament, humans, the unfairness of being trapped, humans, life in general and humans, and...

* * *

Turcotte addressed the staff assembled in front of him. They were Henry Palmer, his chief Engineer, in charge of the maintenance and systems staff. He was quite an obese American, with slightly balding brown hair and a youngish face, like that kind of man who gave an impression of boyishness even when in their forties.

The next was Adam Frederick, who was English. He was the head biologist, anthropologist and genealogist. He was almost the opposite of Palmer, being very tall and quite skinny, with black hair with strands of grey. He had a narrow face, sallow and sunken with age and stress. A smouldering cigarette was stuck between his pursed lips. He was watching the new arrival intently.

Third along was Louise Rodriguez, an American programmer. She was considered to be a genius in programming almost anything from a simple five-line set of code to a prototype Digimon. The youngest member of staff, she had shoulder length blonde hair and a set of freckles on her cheeks.

Fourth and final member, excluding the new arrival, was Karl Bauer, Physicist, mathematician and general scientician. He was generally referred to for any practical problems with designing their creations, creating the implants and selecting ideal materials, programming concepts and more. He was a youngish man in his early thirties of German origin.

There had been many curious glances at the new woman who now sat at the end of the table, between Palmer and Bauer. She was immaculately dressed in a dark navy suit and tie, looking very much, as Palmer quietly commented to Frederick, like a corporate executive. Her black hair fell down on either side of her face, glossy and straight. Pretty was an understatement, yet she had an air of arrogance about her, one that led them to give her suspicious glances.

"As I'm sure you have noticed, we have a new staff member. Miss Yvette Lewton, our new liaison with Division eight. She will be responsible for communication and exchange of information and ideas with the staff of Division eight's' new Bioengineering section. As you will recall, we have agreed to assist them in their upcoming project."

Frederick muttered something, pulling his cigarette out slightly and blowing the smoke out with a quiet _whoosh. _He eyed Yvette suspiciously.

"So what is this new project they were harping on about?" demanded Rodriguez. She leaned forward and stared up at Turcotte. He swallowed. This was not going to be easy.

"Perhaps you should review the report I compiled on the new project," he pulled up a pile of binders and passed them around. He waited anxiously as they flicked idly through their briefs, except Yvette, who simply sat still, watching them with mild interest.

The first to break the silence was Palmer. 

"What the hell? You can't be serious." He looked up at Turcotte. "This is a joke, right?" He smiled at Turcotte, as though expecting him to burst out laughing and saying 'gotcha.' His smile rapidly faded when he saw the sombre look on Turcotte's face. One by one, the others stopped reading and looked up at Turcotte, each looking either bemused, wondering if this was some sort of joke, or outraged.

"'Project Paradigm?'" Rodriguez spoke aloud.

"This can't be right." Said Bauer, "It says on a live _human _subject." 

"That is correct." Everyone looked at Yvette. She had a small smile.

"Miss Lewton," said Frederick sternly, "I remind you of Clause 12 a section 14 that clearly forbids experimentation of this manner on a human subject." 

"Unwilling human subject, Mr Frederick. We have a volunteer in mind."

"Volunteer!?" Rodriguez demanded, "And just who is this nutcase?"

"You will be told in due course." She said, grinning widely.

"Miss Lewton," interrupted Turcotte. All eyes turned to him. "While you are on my staff, I remind you that _I _am in charge. Any and all information pertinent to this project is to be relayed to my team and myself. There is to be no keeping of secrets while you are working under me. I expect a full report on who the test subject is- assuming there is one- and I want it by tomorrow. If there is a problem with this, please feel free to see me in my office after the meeting." Yvette's smile disappeared.

"Of course Professor."

"I want you all to review the details of this project. Also," he leant forward and looked each member in the eye, "I understand each of you will probably have apprehensions about this. Any doubts or questions, anything at all, drop me a line. Come to my office or give me a message, whatever." He gave one more look around at each person. Then he stood back, gazing down at them. "Dismissed."

Everyone had just left, except Rodriguez and Yvette, when Yvette placed a hand on her arm.

"Excuse me, Miss Rodriguez?" The programmer turned round. "Might I ask you a question?"

"Sure." Yvette guided her away from the door.

"What is your opinion of Professor Turcotte?" Rodriguez seemed taken aback. She raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I think he is an excellent scientist. A respected man in his field."

"As a person, I mean. I have heard he is quite... emotional." Yvette masterfully danced around the word, but Rodriguez' distrust of her helped her to see her craft.

"He is an ethical man, if that is what you mean." She said testily.

"Ethics and science? Quite an uncommon mixture, don't you think?"

"Only for those who abuse it. And he has good reason to doubt the good intentions of Division eight. I don't know where it is you came from, but you were accepted pretty quickly for someone who has no record of previous employment in a scientific institution."

"And what would his reason be for that?" Pressed Yvette. Rodriguez glanced furtively at the door.

"I'm not sure if I should tell you this," she started.

"I believe Professor Turcotte has just informed me to be open with my work and thoughts with this team. Please, oblige me with the same favour." Yvette insisted. Rodriguez sighed and glanced again at the door.

"Do you know about the Sehkmet fiasco?" Yvette nodded.

"Indeed. I believe that was when one of the Digital specimens awoke moments prior to deconstruction." Her voice was chillingly neutral. Rodriguez stared at her like she had just sworn foully.

"You sound like it was just a regular occurrence. Do you have any idea what happened?"

"No, enlighten me." She folded her arms patiently. Rodriguez seemed hesitant to talk, but Yvette persuaded her.

"Back when Sehkmet was being constructed, back when it was still comprised entirely out of artificial and salvaged human components and synthetic materials, we were going to deconstruct a Digital Monster-namely a Flamedramon- and use his data to build parts of Sehkmet. Of course we were told he had volunteered." She added, eyeing Yvette with suspicion.

"Go on."

"He woke up moments prior to the deconstruction process. Just woke right there in the chamber. Do you know what he did?" Yvette shook her head. "He had been told before sedation, no doubt by some sick bastard gloating over him, that he was going to be broken down for use in an experiment. As soon as he woke up, saw he was trapped in a tube, he began hammering on the tube to be let out." Yvette raised an eyebrow.

"I've heard their survival instincts are quite realistic." This time Rodriguez burst out angrily,

"_Realistic? _He was a fucking real being! He fell to his knees and sobbed like a kid, knowing he was going to die. Don't give me your bullshit; programs don't do that, cry I mean, when they know they're numbers' up. Survival hell, he was terrified of dying."

"But that is what programs do," Yvette replied evenly, "They mimic that which they were created to emulate. They were created to emulate real creatures. That is what they do. Codes of instructions and commands telling them how to react to a given situation according to how a real creature would is _not _the same as being alive."

Rodriguez seemed like she would slap Yvette if some sense of control hadn't held her back.

"You know what?" She said finally, her eyes glinting with suppressed rage, "Forget I said anything. You executive types are all the same." With that, she stormed out.

* * *

Daniel stirred to an odd feeling permeating his body. It felt like a gentle heat simmering under his skin. He slowly opened his eyes.

He let out a startled cry. His covers were illuminated brightly. Thinking he was on fire, he threw the covers off and sat bolt upright. His heart skipped a beat.

It wasn't the bed or the covers. It was him.

His skin was glowing a deep red. Like a torch shining through a finger, his skin was shining, as though there was a light inside him. Only, he didn't find this the strangest thing.

The strangest thing was he was not afraid.

On the contrary, he smiled. He leapt off the bed and walked to the window. To his surprise, the sun was still up. He had only slept a few hours. He grinned widely and pulled his shoes on. He wanted to take a walk. He slipped a thick sweater on to disguise the light, though he needn't have bothered; the light slowly faded.

_Someone is in a bright mood._ Vritramon growled. Daniel simply combed his hair, still filled with his inexplicable euphoria.

"Aye, I dunno what's up. Mebbe you're havin some kind of influence on me. Whatever it is..." He grinned wider, "It's _good."_

_Am I just the greatest thing to happen to you or what? _Vritramon sounded quite flattered.

Daniel bounded down the stairs, startling his parents.

"Daniel! Watch the noise!" His father scolded him, but Daniel simply hugged him and entered the kitchen, leaving his father staring after him bewildered.

It took a few minutes to persuade his mother to allow him out. Strangely, he felt compelled to leave. He felt a kind of energy, a lust for something, and he had no idea what it was he wanted. He just knew he had to get out there.

_You ARE in a good mood. _Vritramon commented, sounding surprised. _What's gotten into you?_

"You did." He answered. He left his house and walked down his street toward the town centre with no particular destination in mind. He didn't notice the glow had subsided and didn't care anyway.

He wandered toward the glen. He was still quite puzzled as to why he was feeling so energetic. If this was how athletes felt on a daily basis, he vowed to start training right away.

The sun was just peeking above the horizon, though the view was hidden by the multitude of trees in the glen. The wind wisped gently across his face, soothing him. The rustle of the wind through the oaks and chestnut trees was strangely appealing. He wondered vaguely what had happened to him. He wasn't normally this interested in nature.

He trotted down a path between a patch of grass used for football and a swing park. Some children were swinging and laughing. Their mothers were sitting on a bench, the prams parked in front of them, chatting. He hadn't felt so at peace for a long time.

"So you decided to show yersel' Higgins." Daniel had barely turned when a sudden, sharp blow to the back of the head sent him sprawling. He already knew it was Brian. He clasped his hands over the back of his head, groaning. He curled up and moaned softly.

Brian, with his seven foot frame and his three mates, Gary Andrew and Paul stood over him, glaring at him.

Brian was big, but Andrew and Gary were massive. They were built like tanks and packed a punch like one. Paul was the smallest and weakest of the group, but was probably the nastiest in his words and deeds.

"Wee Danny boy, all alone and greetin'," he sneered in his whiny, high-pitched voice. "Mah mate Brian told me you were bein' cheeky. I think we all know what happens to we cheek bastarts, don't we lads?"

The troupe grunted their agreement.

_Not again, _groaned Vritramon, sounding annoyed. It was so absurd, hearing Vritramons' tone in his situation that he laughed. He was rewarded with a harsh kick to the ribs. He cried out.

"Oh, so you're _still _being a cheeky wee bastart are ye?" Brian stepped forward. He picked Daniel up by the neck and held him, the front of his jumper bunched in his fist. He brought the other fist back, ready to strike.

_Get him, kid. _Vritramon growled, _Teach the big duff a lesson. Hit him!_

"Smash his face in, Brian!" crowed Gary.

"Fuckin' smash him!" Andrew agreed.

_Hit back! You're better than this freak! FIGHT YOU FOOL!_

What happened next, Daniel wasn't really sure. All he knew was, one moment he was held by the throat, staring into Brian's grinning face and knowing his face was about to be mashed by his beefy fist. The next, he was free, standing opposite them, staring into their frightened faces.

"Now," he snarled, his voice no longer his own, "I'll show you who is the fool!"

Daniel clenched his fists. From deep inside, he felt something stirring. It was like a force, but it had been wrapped up tightly, wound up, desperate for release. Now that it was coming, he felt unable to stop it.

_Don't you just wanna let go, kid? _Vritramon said softly, _When you see red, when you feel that rage, doesn't it just feel natural to let it out on the deserving?_ Daniel couldn't help silently agreeing, with all his heart.

The four thugs watched in a kind of entranced horror as Daniel, little helpless Daniel, started glowing. He drew up to his full height, his fists clenched at his sides, as though he were lifting a weight bar.

_Here we go, kid. _Said Vritramon, becoming increasingly excited. _This is the side of you I wanted to know. THIS is what makes you better than them. Pure, undiluted, righteous RAGE!_

As soon as Vritramon had finished speaking, Daniel cried out as the force building up within him suddenly burst out, sending a wave of energy out. The wave was purple-black, with a strange symbol on the top, like a triangle with odd runes. He heard the startled cries of Brian and his thugs. He smirked in his powerful ascension. Let the fools tremble, he thought.

His skin was torn and shifted and his body stretched and warped. He screamed in agony, yet he was in bliss. His weak, frail human frame was being burned away in the purity of flame, in the righteous rage consuming the dross of his cowardice.

As suddenly as it started, it stopped. Daniel was left with his eyes close, his head raised toward the sky. He could still hear Brian. No... He could _smell _Brian. He could _sense _his foul presence. He lowered his head and opened his eyes.

_Now this... _Vritramon intoned, _Is the you I like, kid._


	7. Catalyst

Chapter 7: Catalyst

Viewing his charge from across the street, he watched the youngster enter the park. He looked left and right, then crossed the street. He returned his gaze to the boy jovially strolling along the path, deeper into the park.

The man sighed, annoyed that his charge had taken such an unusual and uncharacteristic stroll. He had just settled down to eat dinner when his surveillance system warned him the boy had left his house. Struggling between his hunger and his duty to his charge, he quickly set aside his dinner and put on his shoes and coat to tail him. He was getting paid to watch and protect, not to shirk when he felt like it. Still, what exactly was he up to? Leaving at this time in the evening. He hoped he wasn't going to meet friends. Experience taught him that trying to follow a group was harder than following one person. Too many eyes to avoid, too many folks to get suspicious.

He hunched his shoulders and entered the park. Much to his grief, he noticed Daniel seemed to be wandering, rather than having a set destination. He knew this much, he could tell by Daniel's movements and his body language. A group of four youths were loitering around a football park, heavyset lads who seemed like trouble.

He eyed the group, who in turn, eyed Daniel. He knew well enough how rough youths could be. He kept his hand within reach of the holster in his jacket. It contained his personal weapon: a Kahr P9. Extremely lightweight and small, it was perfect for someone in his line of work. He had only used it once and it hadn't been to kill. He tried not to get involved where possible.

To his dismay, the group moved towards Daniel led by the biggest of the lot: a very heavyset boy with a shaved head. He briefly wondered if he should move in and help, thinking that this might be serious. He decided to wait.

Daniel never noticed them. It wasn't until they were practically next to him that the leader said something. Daniel started to turn, but the leader suddenly swung for him, catching him on the back of the head and he fell forwards, clutching his head. He cursed, glancing back and forth, wondering if the police might be near. There were two women with prams and their children on the swings. They didn't seem to notice. An older man was walking his dog nearby, down another path. He seemed to notice what was going on, but was making a deliberate effort to pretend he hadn't noticed. So it was up to him.

He began moving toward the youths. From here he could hear their raucous jeers as they set about Daniel. He hand gripped his pistol, prepared to frighten the thugs off.

He was a few metres away when Daniel suddenly roared in anger. And roar was the correct word. It even made _him_ stop.

"I'll show you who is the fool!" came his enraged voice. All of the thugs, including the man himself stared at the frail-looking boy trembling with what must have been pure rage. There was a loud cry as a purple-black light burst from him, a semi-sphere like field with an indecipherable image on it. The boy within had vanished, replaced only by a shadowy silhouette.

The thugs were cowering now, sitting on the ground and covering their eyes, staring up at the impossible sight before them in terror. The semi-sphere began to fade, and a new creature could be seen.

It was a sight the man would never forget to his dying day.

The boy he was hired to watch over was gone. In his place was a monstrous creature he thought could only exist in stories and myths. Because it was a dragon.

From its feet to hits head, it was covered in glossy black 'skin' that seemed to absorb the light. From under its chin, down its chest and under it's tail, a pale yellow skin was present. Even at his not-so-great distance, he could see the muscles beneath the skin, rippling with power. The creature stood on two legs, upright like a man with two arms. Its legs were very powerful indeed, it's thighs and knees being like that of a man, but under that, a third 'knee' pointed backwards, then leading down to it's foot. Its feet were four-toed, only the 'toes' were very sharp claws with a fifth talon-like claw from its heels. Its arms were built exactly like humans' arms, but the elbows were tipped with sharp blade-like growths. From it's back were four huge wings, with 'fingers' running down the length interspersed with thick membrane. Finally, its head was tipped with two sharp horns that curved up then forward, starting from above the ears, which were narrow and pointed.

Slightly awed, but very terrified, he started to move back, tempted to draw his weapon, but quickly realising this thing would most likely attract attention. And the last thing he needed, besides his charge transforming into a dragon, was the police catching him with a firearm.

He retreated, leaving the thugs to reap what they had sown.

Daniel was still reeling within from the rush of his transformation. He didn't open his eyes. He didn't need to. He could feel every last ounce of power running through his new body. He had no idea what he looked like. He didn't even care. All he knew was that he was different now, a new creature. And he _loved _it.

He decided to open his eyes. The first thing he saw was a magnificent cascade of colours: greens and blues and yellows. His vision had become heat-sensitive. Though intricate details were now impossible to see, he had a new gift too: his sense of smell.

He never knew that all this time, a whole _world_ of sensations existed right around him: scents and odours and smells and vapours. They were everywhere. Each breath he took filled his nose with a new range of scents. Practically every scent was alien and unfamiliar, but they were fascinating.

Four of them in particular stood out from the rest.

He turned his head toward the cowering forms of the four thugs, four clumps of red, yellow, green, orange and blue. They were clinging together; shivering and sobbing with terror like frightened children. Despite his fury, he couldn't resist chuckling darkly. It escaped his mouth as an intermittent hiss, provoking further cries of terror from them. He was surprised the brain-dead oafs had not thought to escape. Still, he was glad they hadn't. He wanted some fun. He grinned with sadistic pleasure, although it showed as baring his teeth; twin rows of jagged ivory daggers.

He contemplated taunting them. He experimentally ran his tongue along his teeth, feeling his new mouth. To his disappointment, his mouth could not accurately define words and articulate sounds as a human could. He supposed any words he spoke would emerge as unintelligible growls and grunts. Not that he cared much. Revenge was his. Whether he spoke to them while exacting it was simply trivial.

_I hope we are enjoying ourselves._ Came a familiar voice. Vritramon sounded both excited and awed. _I told you kid; you're better than they are. And now you're going to prove it. Give them what they deserve._ Daniel approved.

He looked down on his body, assessing his movements, examining his limbs and admiring them at the same time. His arms were thick and powerful with cable-like muscles flowing beneath his flesh. His chest and belly were reinforced with a ring of hard muscle and sinew. His movements came easily and gracefully. His tail flowed like a snake behind him, his arms felt like liquid metal in their strength.

He took a step. A loud _thump _accompanied his footfall, shaking a nearby tree. There were screams and shouts as the other people in the park ran from him, but he didn't care. All he wanted was his four tormentors, humbled and awe-struck.

The first to make a move was Brian. The boy had always known when it was time to scarper. The others simply collapsed, too terrified to move. Daniel took three steps and he had caught up with him. He bent down and scooped up the fleeing boy and held him tightly within his grasp. He moved the boy close to his face and looked him in the eye. He couldn't see Brian's face, but a mass of colour, two black-blue spots where his eyes were and the rest being yellow with traces of green and red. However his scent told a different story.

He had never actually _smelled _the boy before, yet he recognised his scent. Like a bad odour you don't forget. It was an acrid scent, like molten plastic. Brian was squirming within his grasp, weeping with fright, eyes and mouth wide as though trying to scream but no sound would come out.

_Can you see now? _Came Vritramons' voice, low and deep, _This was the maggot that made you a weak and fearful little boy._ Daniel growled with anger, making Brian squeal with terror.

I am not a little boy!>

_Oh no, not now. Not anymore. You are different now. Better. Stronger. He is scum and you know it. This scum was making your life a misery and you let him get away with it. He had bigger friends, and he knew you couldn't stand a hope against them. But now, without them in the face of your might and your anger, see how he cowers like the little runt he is?_ Daniel gave his wholehearted approval. He felt truly fulfilled in a way he had never done so before, holding his tormentor in his grip. For the first time he truly appreciated the power he held. The power over Brian's life. To end it or spare it at a whim. He was drunk with pleasure.

"P-p-please..." Brian stammered, not daring to move in his grasp, "Don't eat me..." Daniel released a laugh, a loud huffing sound that sounded nothing like a laugh. It was hard to believe this was the boy who had been attempting to punch him minutes earlier.

At that moment, the other three decided to run for their lives. Daniel grinned. It didn't matter. Brian was the leader and he was the one who had started this. It would end with him.

_Talk to him kid._ Suggested Vritramon.

What? How?>

_Same way we're talking. With your mind._

Daniel concentrated. It was like focused thinking, as though he was 'willing' his thoughts into Brian's head.

What's wrong, Brian?> Daniel thought-spoke to him, Not feeling so cocky?>

The look of utter disbelief on Brian's tear-streaked face was priceless.

"D-Daniel?" He squeaked weakly. "Is... That you?"

Aye, of course it's me!> Daniel snarled in his face, baring his teeth and rumbling deep in his chest. Brian whimpered and looked away, closing his eyes. Ah thought you above everyone else would know who I bloody well was!>

"Danny..." he tried weakly, "Look, I'm sorry. Really, ah ahm. Just let me go. Come on, pal..."

PAL?> Daniel tightened his fist, squeezing Brian who cried out and choked, Who're you callin' pal? It wisna that a few minutes ago when you were about tae crack me!>

"Ah'm sorry!" Brian cried desperately, "Ah'll never bother you again! Ah'll do anything!" Daniel was clenching a little tighter when a thought struck him. If Brian had known the difference between a dragon's expressions, he would have seen an evil grin spread across Daniel's lips.

Anything?> Brian looked fearfully up into Daniel's eyes.

* * *

Yamaki stood at his window overlooking Edinburgh. He and his colleagues had rented this flat to be closer to Daniel while they came up with a plan. It wasn't the best location and certainly lacked some of better amenities but it was generally safe and had enough room and a view.

Within the few days he had spent here since arriving in Scotland, he had made it into a safe-house worthy of a secret agent. Claire and Marie had made the place as secure as possible. A laptop connected to the phone enabled them to check whether their phone calls were being monitored and they had secretly installed spy cams and sensors at the end of the corridor to monitor anyone using the lift.

The three had become intensely paranoid over the previous days. Yamaki had already made several frustrated attempts to reach DGDR Headquarters, but each time a tracer was detected and the call had to be terminated. This both frustrated and worried him. DGDR never traced calls made to General Office, where all usual calls were passed through before sifting to their appropriate recipients. The fact that any call made to any phone anywhere in the building was being met by tracer was compounding his belief that this was some kind of conspiracy, possibly among his own superiors.

At the height of all of this was Daniel. They had taken it upon themselves to keep a track of him using a hired detective. It had only been a day or so since he had returned home and they didn't know what was going to happen, but they each knew it was vital that Vritramon and Daniel did not fall into enemy hands. Whoever the enemy was, of course.

It was approaching early evening, around six-thirty when the phone rang. Yamaki picked up.

"Who is it?" He whispered furtively. At this point, his right-hand, Marie walked in, carrying two cups of coffee. She set it down and watched as he listened to the voice on the other end.

"Yes, what about it?" he demanded. In the silence, it was possible for Marie to hear a slightly raised voice from the phone, but couldn't decipher the words.

"What?" Yamaki stood up so fast, his chair tipped backwards. "When was this?" He listened again, Marie maintaining an expression of neutrality. Yamaki listened, then bent down and picked up his chair. He slowly sunk into it, one hand cupping his brow, as though bowled over by the magnitude of what he was hearing.

"What exactly caused it?" He listened some more. "So it was directly caused by a threat?" he confirmed.

Marie at this point knew that something had happened to Daniel. She knew well enough the huge opportunity for disaster his merging with Vritramon had made. She knew something had gone wrong.

Yamaki ran his fingers through his blonde hair, staring downwards at his desk with vacant eyes as the scene was apparently being laid by the person on other end.

"He's attacking someone? Who?" The colour drained from his face. Marie stood calmly, coffee in hand. "Well stop him! Do something!" There was a heated reply. "Warn him! Talk to him!"

There was another heated reply. Yamaki ran his fingers through his hair again, with more frustration.

"Alright! Alright! Just keep him there until we get there!" He shouted back. Another pause. "I don't care how, just do it! Make sure he doesn't leave! At the very least, keep an eye on him and call me if he so much as moves! Understood?" He sounded both furious and exasperated. With a heavy sigh, he hung up.

"What's the situation?" Marie asked calmly. Somehow, seeing his second in command react with cool composure helped calm him too. He sat back and smoothed his hair, moving his shades back into position.

"Daniel has transformed into something. Something huge and dangerous and he is attacking a thug who attacked him."

"Should we intervene?" Marie prompted.

"Of course. He _is_ our responsibility. Or at least _my _responsibility." He buried his face in his hands. "Who would've thought I could make a mistake like this?"

Marie scolded him, "Sir, there is no time for doubts. We must act now."

Yamaki stood and pulled open a drawer. From inside he pulled a pistol. A loaded Browning. He sighed put it in his holster within his suit.

"I was a fool." He muttered.

"You were under pressure."

"I was careless."

"You're being self-pitying."

Yamaki looked up and saw a glint in her eye. She was scolding him. He realised she was right. He pulled himself upright and drew a deep breath.

"Let's get going." He said with a tone of finality. She nodded. Her own gun was already in her holster.

"And Claire?"

"Leave a note. She can wait here for us, or reach us on the mobile if she needs to." He strode to the door with Marie after him.

* * *

Janice was sifting through the notes in the till when the boy entered her shop. She gave a cursory glance at the customer. Her glance became a stare, which became a gawk.

The boy was dressed only in his underwear, shoes and socks. He seemed to be physically trembling. Which wasn't surprising, given the less than clement weather. She watched, her eyes open like saucers as he walked to a newspaper stand and seemed to pick up a random paper and walked to the till. The woman, still staring at him, automatically passed the paper over the scanner, as she did so many times almost every day.

"Anything else now?" She asked monotonously. He flushed a beetroot red.

"Naw. That's all." His voice was surprisingly neutral. She decided he was probably a nut or even more likely, he was doing a dare or a bet or something. No doubt a gang of his mates were outside waiting, ready to burst out laughing. Well, what the hell, let them. She would just play along.

"Fifty pence please, pal." He handed the coin to her and picked the paper up. He turned and strode out the door. She shook her head and went back to her note counting.

* * *

Outside, Daniel was weeping with laughter. He was silent, of course, he knew he was still very much a threatening sight and didn't want to draw attention. Nevertheless, he couldn't resist a chuckle at the sight of him leaving the shop, paper in hand. What made him laugh even more was the fact his head was glowing a bright white in his heat-vision. Brian's' head looked like a lightbulb. He knew Brian's face must have been positively glowing with embarrassment. By the time Brian had crossed the road, amid glares of disgust, amusement and probably sympathy too from passers by, and entered the thicket of trees in the glen where he was hiding, he threw the paper down.

"Satisfied?" Brian almost howled.

Aye, very much.> Daniel replied, trying to stop himself bursting with laughter. Brian picked up his clothes and walked behind some trees to get changed.

"You're a real bastard, you know that, Higgins?" he muttered from behind the trees.

Aye, but what would that make you? Scum?>

"At least I never publicly humiliated you! You took it to far!"

You think public humiliation is worse than gettin' choked at every opportunity, bein' called worthless, getting jumped in the park for no reason... >Daniel retorted, prepared to continue his long list of grievances.

"Alright, fine." Brian growled. He continued to mutter while getting changed. Inside, Daniel felt a little less smug. True, Brian deserved what he got and in all honesty, it wasn't much compared to what Brian had done to him. Nevertheless, he felt somewhat deflated. He felt a little mean. Maybe in his euphoria, he had forgotten that he was better than that. He had sunk to Brian's' level. At the same time, he was getting worried about how to change back. What would his parents think? What if he was caught? How would people react to seeing a dragon? More to the point, what would they do to him?

"Are we done here?" Brian had stepped out from the trees fully dressed. Daniel jerked his head irritably in the direction of the road.

Fine, go. Just remember: I don't want anymore trouble. Consider us even now. I don't want anything more to do with you. And make sure your pals get the message.>

For a moment, Brian started walking toward the road. Then he stopped and turned.

"How are you gonnae change back?" Daniel cursed silently.

_Why change back? Isn't this form better? _Vritramon put in.

What?>

_Do you honestly think your pathetic human form was better than this? Can't you feel the strength and power? Does this not appeal more to you than your old self?_

How can I live like this? What do you think ma parents will think when I get home?>

_Don't go back._

Leave my family?>

_Why not?_

Daniel was getting confused. On one side he knew who he was, that he was human, had a family to stay with and a school to go to. A friend too. Nicole.

I cannae stay like this. I have to change back.>

_I don't want to change back! _Vritramon snarled. Daniel was shocked by his outburst.

But... What then?>

_Stay as a dragon. Come on, you can do anything you want. Who's strong enough to stop you?_

The Army!> Daniel retorted.

"Ho, you gonnae ignore me or what?" Brian demanded.

I don't know what I'll do.> Daniel admitted. They stood in silence.

Secretly, Daniel wanted to remain a dragon a little longer. He enjoyed the feel of power coursing through him. His body was like a well-oiled machine. Powerful, energised, faultless and unstoppable. Though the euphoria of his transformation was wearing off, he still felt powerfully enticed by the promises of the strength this body provided.

Yet he knew this was impossible. He had a family to live with, a friend, Nicole to be with, a school to go to and a life to live. He knew he couldn't simply throw everything away to live like this. Besides, if he was found and caught, who knew what the Government would do to him? He wasn't a Digimon and Digimon were a protected 'species'. He doubted dragons fitted in with that. If he was found and panic ensued, he could picture two outcomes: One involved himself being dissected by scientists, the other involved a tank shell lodged in his skull, and then being dissected. The former was only marginally more appealing since the thought of his brains being splattered across the ground was somewhat chilling. Slowly, Daniel felt himself slip into despair.

* * *

In the US, another boy was slipping into despair.

He sat in his room, his face buried in his hands. Tears ran down his face and his shoulders shook with sobs. He felt himself falling apart. It was awful. Like everything was suddenly millions of times heavier, like there was simply too much to handle.

There was no one home, his parents came home a good hour after he did. He had put up with this for months. The taunting. The jeering and deliberate insults, things getting thrown at him, getting tripped in corridors, getting shouted at and threatened by strangers. And all of it happened at his school. And all of it was committed by younger years than him.

His name was Maurice, and he was seventeen. A tall lad, though quite thin with short brown hair that never really sat straight. He was in his final year at his high school, yet he wasn't near his exams yet and he was breaking down.

He couldn't explain it: Ever since he had entered his final year, the juniors had become suddenly and inexplicably hostile toward him. Not everyone, but enough of them to make him think he had somehow managed to insult every youth in his school in some incomprehensible way. It wasn't even any particular youths either, which is what made it all the worse. It was everyone. Everyone seemed to have a grudge.

And now he had had enough.

He had sucked it up and marched on for long enough. It wasn't enough he had studied hard to achieve his above-average grades, it wasn't enough he had tried to keep himself to himself, no, everyone wanted to pick on him in particular. His confidence had been shattered and his grades had plummeted as had his attendance.

Well, no more.

In front of him was his fathers' craft knife. It was a razor-sharp scalpel-like instrument his father used for certain sculpting techniques, which he did in his spare time. He gazed down at the knife. It glinted in the light, the silver blade twinkling almost hypnotically. He was afraid. God was he afraid. But the pain was too much. He couldn't go on, not like this. Every day was a new struggle to keep his face straight and his tone level with his parents. Every day was new struggle to cope with the seemingly endless attacks. He was weak and he knew it was too much. Now it was over.

He gently picked up the blade. His tears stopped and he ran the edge over his thumb. Blood came forth instantly. His father kept his tools sharp with an industrial grinder in the garage. This thing would cut a tin in two.

A fresh wave of sorrow and guilt rose up in him. His parents would be heartbroken. He could imagine the hysteria his mother would go through, clutching his lifeless body. He pushed those thoughts aside. It was too late for that. This had to be done. He wanted the pain to stop. God, if only to have blessed relief...

Slowly, he pulled his sleeve back, exposing his wrist. He gazed down upon the veins running beneath the skin. So delicate.

With bated breath, he drew the blade across his wrist.

The crimson that gushed forth shocked him. He watched, wide-eyed as the crimson liquid gushed forth, pouring from his wrist with alarming speed. Blood was already trickling onto the floor.

He put the knife down and stared at the paper in front of him. A note. His last note to his parents. Already, he was having trouble focusing. His head was spinning and he felt his stomach churning at the thought of the blood. So much, so quickly.

He got out of his chair. He wanted to go to the window to see the outside one last time. But his legs were already badly trembling. The sight of the blood and the rapid blood loss had prompted a huge adrenaline release that made his legs feel like rubber. His entire insides burned with guilt, fear, sorrow, and anger.

Then suddenly, the anger flared up.

He was dying. And it was all their fault. What had he ever done to deserve to die? Why did he deserve this over them? Why?

For the first time in a long time, his rage burned fiercer than his pain. He looked down at his wrist, which was still gushing. His vision was a little foggy, like looking through water. He felt his senses dull.

A new sorrow welled up, only this time it was of guilt at his thoughtless action. He was going to die, and his parents would be heartbroken. God! He hated them! He wanted to kill them!

Panic set in as his dying mind lost control of his legs and he collapsed. A small pool of blood had seeped into the carpet. He had no strength. He just wanted everything to end. Please, please let this stop. I've had enough.

Then, Maurice lost consciousness.

* * *

It was Maurice' file that Garret was looking over. Seventeen, healthy male, no medical conditions. His mind was what set him apart from other prospective subjects.

A suicidal teenager would no doubt have a great deal of angst. When Maurice was brought into hospital, he was comatose. The doctors gave him no chance of recovery. Too much brain damage due to oxygen starvation. Enough survived, however, for the operation he had in mind. And Turcottes' new project fit the bill nicely.

Maurice was the test subject for Turcottes' project. Of course, Turcotte was hesitant, partly because of the nature of the operation, and partly because of the test subject and his history, but Garret knew how to get Turcotte to yield. That is, if Reiley hadn't already persuaded him.

As if on cue, Reiley entered the office.

"Well?" Barked Garret.

"Turcotte will go ahead with the project." He said simply. Reiley smoothed his suit and fixed his short hair. Garret leant back in his chair, smiling.

"Excellent. Turcotte will be a major asset."

"It took a great deal of persuasion. He was quite suspicious. As was his team, I might add. Yvette had a rather nasty disagreement with one of them."

"Nothing she can't handle, I trust?"

"Of course."

Garret stood and walked round the table toward Reiley. He handed him the file on Maurice.

"I want you to make arrangements for this boy to be used for Project Paradigm." Reiley took the dossier and skimmed through it.

"He's alive?"

"Yes."

"How will I get him away from the hospital and deflect suspicion from his relatives?"

"Fake a funeral. I can arrange to have replacement doctors around when he 'expires'. All you have to do is make the arrangements." Reiley tucked the dossier under his arm and turned for the door. After he left, Garret poured himself a glass of whisky. The amber-coloured liquid glugged from the ornate bottle into his glass. He set it down and picked up his glass, sipping the brandy while staring out of the window thoughtfully.

His intercom buzzed, snapping him out of his thoughts. He set down his glass and pressed the button.

"Yes?" It was his secretary.

"The Circle wants to meet. You are invited. They commence in half an hour." Garret thanked him and switched the intercom off.

With a heavy sigh, he stood up. The Circle was becoming tiresome. Each and every one had been a member of the DARRC for years, some of them probably longer than he had been alive. Besides Division Six, Turcottes' division, every other division was secretive and jealously guarded their secrets from the others unless it was in their own interests to share. As a result of this, layers and layers of red tape had been put in place both to help channel as much information from the other divisions into their own, or to prevent other divisions getting access to sensitive information. As a result, often the left hand didn't know what the right was up to.

There were eight Divisions altogether, each with a Administrator who sat on the Circle, which gathered every so often to exchange information and organise cross-division operations. At least that was the idea. As time had progressed and each Circle member had aged, and their respective divisions grew, they had become ever more secretive and belligerent toward each other. As a result, most meetings nowadays were simply to point fingers, blame another division, demand more funding, argue about this and that and many other trivial reasons. Garret was greatly irked by their behaviour.

Nevertheless, he had no choice but to bow to their rulings. Despite their rivalry, he was the one they viewed with most suspicion and hostility. As a result, he tended to be invited only for courtesy and for a focus of their complaints.

He walked to the door. Might as well get this done with, he thought.

I know, it has been a long time. Let me explain.

Something disastrous occurred a while back in my life and it nearly made me do something drastic. I was depressed for a while, but I've been getting better. I know this has been a long time, and I apologise.


	8. My Saviour

**Chapter 8: My Saviour**

Yamaki and Marie leapt from the car practically the instant it stopped. Yamaki removed his shades and scanned the area. He half expected to see scenes of carnage and mayhem. Instead the area seemed pretty calm.

Marie was by his side instantly. Her hand was inside her coat, no doubt grasping her weapon. He nodded to her and they walked off in different directions, Marie heading further along the road and Yamaki heading into the park.

Yamaki had no idea what to expect; the guy he hired had probably fled already. He made a mental note to pay more heed to the old adage: If you want something done, do it yourself.

As he entered the park, it was clear that something had happened. It was mid-afternoon in a relatively busy part of town, yet the park had absolutely no one in sight. No dog-walkers, joggers, cyclists, no one.

_Please... Tell me he didn't go ape shit... _

Yamaki knew by now it was pointless hoping for a mildly optimistic outcome. He had no idea what Daniel had even transformed into, much less how hostile he was. His detective's phone call had revealed he had transformed after being hassled by thugs, so it was probable that it was self-defence but it was no guarantee that Daniel wouldn't be violent or unstable.

Yamaki passed a football park and crossed a small bridge over a stream. He scanned around carefully, his hand still gripping his weapon under his jacket. He tried listening for anything out of place but all he could hear was the soft rustling of leaves.

A loud sound caused Yamaki to whip round, bringing his gun up at the same time. It was an old man holding a shopping bag. He gasped and dropped the bag at the sight of the gun and started backing away.

"Wait, I'm sorry..." But the old man had already started to run. Yamaki cursed foully. If Daniel's activities hadn't attracted the attention of the police, an armed man certainly would. He had to look quickly.

* * *

Daniel sat on his haunches, feeling miserable. He had been sitting here in the thicket for just under an hour and any euphoria he had been feeling had long since worn off. Brian had gone home, having been suitably punished for his endless harassment. The thought had cheered Daniel up a bit, but it didn't change his predicament. 

He had no idea how to change back. He knew Vritramon had something to do with this, but Vritramon wasn't really enthusiastic about changing back. Any time he pleaded with him for suggestions on how to return to normal were met either with scathing insults about how frail Daniel's old body had been, or utter indifference.

It was when Daniel was brooding on Vritramon's lack of help (or attention) that he noticed a man walking towards him. Or at least he thought it was a man, it was difficult to tell with heat-vision. He could see the man looking around in a manner suggesting he was searching for something. He also noticed the man had his hand inside his jacket. Daniel felt a pang of fear. It seemed like the guy was armed.

_Now what are you whining about?_

Daniel rolled his eyes.

_That guy looks like he's hiding something,_ replied Daniel.

_Like what? Nuts? Because seriously, I would be embarrassed if I was seen with that magazine._

_Like a gun, you tool._ He replied, exasperated.

_So? Eat him. A peashooter like that is no match for us._

_Aye, any suggestions that don't involve gettin' us killed?_

Daniel swallowed. The man was getting closer. He was just on the opposite side of the bridge crossing the stream. If it was a gun, and the guy actually was searching it was a safe bet he was searching for Daniel. Or at least for what had caused the earlier ruckus.

Daniel watched the man cross the bridge and stand still. He was definitely searching for him. Daniel noticed another figure enter his vision. The second figure appeared to be holding a bag.

As Daniel watched, the man walked behind the first man and his bag rustled. The first man whirled around, pulling out an object and pointing it at the other man, causing him to drop his bag.

_Yep, he's armed, _confirmed Daniel, feeling his heart sink.

_Heh heh, that old guy looks like he wet his pants, _Vritramon chuckled to himself. Daniel was tempted to scream at Vritramon to shut up, but doubted there was any point. Vritramon would sooner eat his own eyes than listen to someone else.

The older man (Though Daniel had no idea how Vritramon knew he was old, to Daniel they were both just kaleidoscopic colourful smears) backed away. The armed man quickly put his gun back in his jacket and extended an arm soothingly.

"Wait, I'm sorry..." he started, but the old man turned and ran, completely ignoring his shopping. The armed man cursed,

_Smooth moves, secret agent man,_ Vritramon snickered.

Daniel shifted uncomfortably. He had no idea how he was supposed to get out of this. Then he felt a sharp pain in his knee.

_Ahhh! What the..._ Daniel hissed in pain. He realised he had knelt on a broken bottle and it had cut into his flesh, drawing blood.

The armed man whirled around to stare directly at their hiding place.

_Clumsy moron, _Vritramon snarled.

* * *

Yamaki watched the old man run. It wasn't enough he had to look for Daniel, he had to be wary for any other witnesses. 

There was a sudden, muffled sound from behind. He turned, being sure not to draw his weapon this time. He was staring into a thicket of bushes and trees.

_Could it be him?_ Yamaki edged toward the bushes. His heart pounded hard against his ribs, and he felt a drop of sweat trickle down his cheek.

He glanced from side to side, checking for anyone else. After deciding no one else was nearby, he drew his weapon, keeping it low and pointed toward the ground. He edged closer.

A sudden sound caused him to jump, nearly firing his gun. The sound came from his pocket, a light and musical beeping sound. His mobile.

Irritated, he pulled the phone from his pocket and flipped it open.

"Yamaki." He answered tersely.

"Sir, I've checked with a local shopkeeper. Apart from being visited by a kid pulling a prank, she hasn't seen anything suspicious." It was Marie.

"And? Anything else?" He snapped impatiently.

"I've heard from some other locals that there was a commotion earlier and some weird light from the park, but nothing else. They thought it was kids playing with fireworks."

Yamaki looked up, staring into the bushes again. Now, they seemed silent and still.

"Anything on your end?" Marie asked.

Yamaki paused, still staring into the thicket. He wasn't even sure what he had heard anymore.

"Nothing." He answered finally.

"I'll continue checking on my end. I'll take a look further up the street and I'll meet you at the other entrance to the park near the church."

"Alright. I'll see you there." He hung up. He took one last look at the bushes, and then he walked back toward the path.

* * *

Daniel felt sweat trickling down his brow and his chest. The man was coming closer, and had drawn his gun. 

Even Vritramon seemed nervous. He didn't know if Vritramon had finally got it into his thick skull that bullets could easily kill them, but he certainly wasn't as cocky as he was a while ago.

_Take him now,_ said Vritramon softly, _He won't be ready. He'll be dead before he can raise his gun_.

_Fucking shut it!_ Daniel screamed. _All it takes is a shot to the head and I'm dead or blind. A shot in the right place and he could get an artery! _

_What are you jabbering about?_ Vritramon growled back. It occurred to Daniel that, as a Digimon, Vritramon had probably never had any of these things. Digimon were data, they didn't have organs or blood.

Daniel didn't respond. The armed man was too close now; he would have to think of something if he didn't want to get caught.

There was a sudden beeping sound. The man visibly jumped in fright. He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. Daniel realised it was a mobile phone.

The man talked for a few moments. Daniel couldn't quite make out what the man was saying. He sat there, sweat dripping from his snout and grasping his bleeding knee. After a few moments, the man turned and stared directly at Daniel. For a moment, he thought he had been spotted.

A moment later, the man hung up and, with a final look in Daniel's direction started to walk away.

Daniel breathed a sigh of relief.

_Heh, good thing he walked away. _Vritramon sounded smug. _Otherwise he would've made a nice snack._

_Christ, do you ever shut up? Now that he's away, we can try..._

Daniel was cut short by a sudden light-headedness. He reeled and fell back into a sitting position.

_Now what? _Vritramon said in what sounded almost like a whine.

Daniel couldn't answer. His head was spinning and he felt like he was about to throw up. He felt a distinct feeling of shrinking, and his eyes suddenly started to hurt. He closed them, curling up into a ball and surrendering, allowing whatever was happening to him to go on, hoping against hope that it wasn't something that would land him in more trouble.

The nausea continued, as did his feelings of vertigo and the shrinking feeling. Then, it ended as quickly as it started.

Daniel tried to open his eyes, but his vision was blurred. Everything was dark and grey. He got onto all fours and threw up.

Afterward, he rolled over and lay on his back, trying to centre himself.

_Kid? Are you okay?_ For the first time he could remember, Vritramon actually sounded mildly concerned.

Daniel opened his eyes again, this time able to focus. His vision had returned to normal. His heart skipped a beat. He brought his hand up in front of his face. It was a normal, human hand. Also to his relief was the fact he was clothed.

With a sense of profound relief, he relaxed, lay there in the grass and closed his eyes.

"Daniel? Are you okay?" He heard a voice, but he was too tired to really care. His head was still spinning and he wasn't sure he could stand without throwing up again.

"Daniel!" He opened his eyes and saw a blonde-haired man with shades standing over him. He looked familiar, but couldn't recall from where.

He felt the man pick him up carefully. Then they were moving. Daniel closed his eyes. Watching the world move by made him nauseous.

"It's alright Daniel. You're safe. I'll take care of you."

* * *

Marie stood by the second entrance to the park. She flicked her hair back, not used to not having a bun. She glanced around the park. Yamaki probably should have been in sight by now. She wondered if she should phone again. She removed her glasses and polished them. 

She was a bit sore by his tone when she had called earlier. His moods had been increasingly frustrating to her.

She frowned, shaking her head. No, it wasn't his fault. He was under a great deal of stress. Not to mention the guilt of the DGDR casualties at the hands of the invaders. He had a lot of weight on his shoulders. It was up to her to support him.

Distracted by her mobile, she pulled it from her pocket and flipped it open.

"Marie." She answered.

"I've got him. Get back to the car." Yamaki sounded a bit calmer than the last conversation.

"Is he alright?" She started walking rapidly back the way she came.

"He's unconscious but he looks alright. He was sick a few minutes ago, I think whatever he changed into, he must've just changed back and it's taken a lot out of him."

"Will he need to see a doctor?"

"I don't think so, but we should get him back to our place straight away."

"What about his parents?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. First, we have to get him to safety." Marie could hear a siren in the distance.

"I'm almost there. I think the police are coming."

"Hurry."

She hung up and started to run. If they were caught with weapons, they would be in serious trouble, especially if they were caught with Daniel. They would probably be taken for kidnappers.

She saw their car. She dashed the last few metres to the car, climbing into the passenger seat. They sped off moments before a police car came round the corner.

In the back, Daniel groaned.

"It's all right Daniel, you're safe." Yamaki said soothingly.

Marie was surprised. She had never really heard Yamaki speak like that. He sounded like a concerned father. She put the thought from her mind, concentrating on getting them back.

* * *

Turcotte stood behind the glass shield, biting his thumbnail. In front of him, in the room, Frederick and other staff were in surgical robes, standing over a young man on the operating table. 

The young man, Turcotte had been told, was Maurice. He wasn't told his second name. 'Need to know', he had been told. However, he had been given assurances and signatures from various sources that the boy had volunteered and had been repeatedly assured by Garret that the operation was legit.

But Turcotte knew better.

The very first thing Frederick had noticed upon initial examination was the mark on his wrist. It was very obviously a deep cut and it had been self-inflicted. Frederick had come to the conclusion that it was a suicide attempt.

Having been told this, Turcotte had confirmed the story was bogus, since initial tests by Frederick and his surgical team had revealed Maurice was indeed brain-dead. This meant it wasn't possible for Maurice to have volunteered, and since he highly doubted his parents would have consented to this, DARRC had obviously lied or had done some underhand dealings to get Maurice and cover up the affair.

Which lead them to the current situation. Turcotte was watching the clock with increasing agitation. The operation to insert the mechanical implants that would begin his transformation process was to start at 6:00 PM and it was 5:57 PM.

Turcotte still had the power of veto in this situation, and could easily order Frederick to pack up and go home; the op was cancelled. Frederick, of course, would be up and out in a heartbeat, loyal as he was to Turcotte and would speak no more of the incident. Garret would be a different matter. If Garret heard Turcotte had cancelled the op, he would be furious. And that would be bad.

5:58 PM. The surgeons in the operating theatre were chatting and moving the trays of instruments into position. Frederick glanced at the clock, then looked back toward Turcotte. Even from behind the glass and partially hidden under the mask and hat of his surgical garb, Turcotte could see the strain in the ageing eyes.

He couldn't go ahead with this. Turcotte knew this was wrong. He was going to consign this youth to a terrible fate; a life as a monster. He couldn't do it. His eyes met with Frederick. He knew that Frederick agreed, but would follow his instructions whatever he decided. Thank God for Frederick, he thought.

5:59 PM. Turcotte was starting to build courage. So what if he pissed off Garret? The bastard couldn't control his Division, not over Turcotte. This was a young lad he was dealing with here; he couldn't steal whatever life remained in his broken body and twist it into something awful.

It was then, with 30 seconds to go that he walked in on the opposite side of the theatre. Garret, flanked as usual with Reiley, walked into the observation chamber on the opposite side of the theatre from Turcotte. Turcotte couldn't speak with them, but one look at Garret's face sapped Turcotte's rebelliousness. Hidden as it was behind his dark shades, Turcotte knew that the cold glare from behind them was enough to tell him what would happen to him if he refused.

Shamefully, cowed and beaten, Turcotte bowed his head and refused to meet Frederick's eyes as he nodded to approve the procedure.

As Frederick turned round to begin, he didn't watch Turcotte leave quietly.

* * *

Daniel suddenly snapped awake. He sat up quickly, causing his head to whirl, so he lay back down again rapidly. 

"Whoa, easy." Said a young female voice, "You'll be fine. We're not going to hurt you."

Daniel looked up to see a young woman leaning down next to him. She spoke with an American accent, and he noticed she was very pretty. She had short, black hair and brown eyes with a very clear and fair complexion. She squatted down and held his chin to examine his eyes. Daniel blushed and tried to look away.

"Don't worry," she said, "I don't bite." She checked his eyes (Though it was difficult when he kept looking away) and held a hand to his forehead. When she was satisfied, she stood up and went to the door.

"Yamaki! He's awake!" She called. Daniel noticed he was in a small bedroom, but he had no idea where. It was very plain, with bland walls and curtains that were drawn, allowing little afternoon light to filter through. A desk stood in the corner with a PC and ordinary wooden chair.

She walked back over. Rapid steps could be heard coming down the corridor. A moment later, a tall man walked in. He was wearing a light shirt and faded jeans, and wore a pair of shades. He had slightly untidy blonde hair and a very sever look about him, despite his somewhat relaxed attire.

He removed his shades and Daniel saw that he was Oriental in appearance. Japanese or Chinese, he wasn't sure.

"Daniel?" He spoke with a surprisingly clear, definite American accent.

"Aye, that's me."

The tall man, Yamaki as the woman had called him, walked over and knelt by him. He smiled gently, taking on a whole new persona.

"My name is Yamaki. Do you recognise me?" He spoke very softly, like a concerned parent. Daniel started to feel a little safer.

Daniel tried hard to think where he had seen the man before, besides earlier when he had been picked up. Now that he mentioned it, he did feel somewhat familiar. Then it struck him.

"Didn't you carry me out of that lab place? When it was attacked?" He said. Yamaki nodded.

"Do you remember what happened? Back in the park?" Daniel nodded.

"Aye, I went a bit... Overboard when some guys tried to batter me. And by 'overboard' I mean _really_ overboard."

"So when you changed, you did it in self-defence? They attacked you first?" He seemed quite agitated.

"Definitely."

Yamaki stood up and breathed a sigh of relief. The young woman stood up as well.

"So what is it? What's the problem?"

"I wanted to know if it was self-defence or a loss of control. In this case, it seems mostly self-defence, which is a step in the right direction, but..."

"Excuse me..." Daniel asked. Both Yamaki and the woman stopped. "But what exactly happened? The guys tried to smash me and Vritramon started talking and..." Daniel realised he had said 'Vritramon' and he expected them to ask who that was. Instead, the woman gasped and Yamaki grabbed Daniel by the shoulders.

"Vritramon? You're sure? He's talking with you?" Daniel was alarmed and nodded speechlessly.

"Has he told you to do anything violent?" Claire asked.

"N-No, he just... talks and insults me and generally acts like a dick." Daniel stammered.

_A what? I hope you aren't bad-mouthing me, you little brat._

Speak of the Devil... Daniel shook his head a little in exasperation. Yamaki must have noticed.

"Is he talking to you now?" Daniel nodded. "What is he saying?"

"He's upset because I insulted him." Yamaki was still, and so was the young woman. Then Yamaki sighed and stood back, apparently relieved.

"So he isn't crazed. I'm glad."

_Who the Hell is that guy? He looks in desperate need of a slap. _Daniel couldn't resist small grin, but suppressed it guiltily. Yamaki had saved him twice, and seemed an all right guy.

"So what's going on? Why is he inside me? And more to the point what the hell happened in the park?"

At that point, another woman walked in. She was older than the other woman, and a lot more stern-looking. She had shoulder-length brown hair and a light leather jacket with faded jeans. Daniel also noticed a gun holster under her jacket.

"What's happening?" She also spoke in an American accent.

"Vritramon is conscious and is communicating with Daniel mentally. But it appears Vritramon is stable and is not trying to influence Daniel to do anything violent." Said Yamaki.

_Not yet, anyway._ Said Vritramon sulkily.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Introductions." The young woman extended a hand and grinned broadly. "I'm Claire." Daniel shook her hand smiling sheepishly.

"As you know, I'm Yamaki. This is Marie." Daniel shook hands with both of them.

"So why am I here? And what happened to me?" Daniel asked again.

Yamaki and Marie exchanged glances. Marie gave a nod.

"Well, it's difficult to explain, but we'll try." Said Yamaki. "But not tonight. We'll drop you off home. If you still want to know, phone this number and we can pick you up." Yamaki handed him a piece of paper with a number on it. Daniel took it and, though still feeling light-headed, was helped to his feet.

* * *

Later that night, Daniel lay in bed awake. He was absolutely exhausted and was struggling to keep his eyes open. He was remembering his transformation and his hour or so as a dragon. He could still feel the strength, a raw power he wielded as a dragon. The power he felt when he held Brian in his grasp. 

"Vritramon?" He spoke out loud.

_What?_ Vritramon sounded a little grumpy.

"You had sumthin' to do with that transformation, didn't you?"

_What if I did? _

Daniel was silent for a moment. He turned over and closed his eyes, already starting to drop off.

"Thanks." He said. Within a few seconds, he was fast asleep.

A few minutes passed. Then, in the back of Daniel's slumbering mind, Vritramons' voice spoke softly:

_You're welcome kid._


End file.
